


Jean Madeleine's Yoga Academy

by La_Prima_Donna



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantine Lives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Yoga, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Javert, Confused Javert, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Eventual Javert/Jean Valjean, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Everyone Wants Valjean, Except Fantine, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Flexibility, Flexibility kink, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hair Kink, Hand Jobs, Hot Yoga, Insecurities, Javert Has a Big Booty, Javert has long hair, Javert's Confused Boner, Jealousy, Large Cock, M/M, Madeleine Era, Masturbation, Mirror Sex, Modern Era, Mutual Pining, New York City, Pining, Power Bottom Javert, Praise Kink, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexual Fantasy, Shower Sex, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Smut, Tattoos, Top Valjean, Valjean is Hot, Workplace Sex, Yoga, sun metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-01 11:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10188578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Prima_Donna/pseuds/La_Prima_Donna
Summary: Javert wasn't going to follow his doctor's advice when she suggested he did yoga, but a look at the handsome, burly man on the pamphlet she'd handed him was ringing all sorts of bells in his memory. However, what starts as an investigation quickly turns into much more...





	1. Doctor's Orders

**Author's Note:**

> Quick disclaimer: I started this in the summer of 2016 and got stuck, but I still love this idea so I'm posting what I have so far as chapter one, hoping that doing so will motivate me to continue writing. Also, my writing style has probably changed a fair bit since I started this. That will possibly make it a little strange to read, but, eh. Hope you like this anyway!

Yoga. Why did it have to be yoga? Out of all the ways to combat stress, why on Earth did his doctor have to choose yoga? “It’ll be good for you, Sir,” she’d said, “Yoga is a wonderful way to relax. Besides, you're getting older, and it will help you keep in shape.” Yes; she’d added insult to injury and called him old. Wonderful.

He wasn't going to go, of course. He’d laughed at the suggestion (well, he’d made a dry, wheezing sound that was meant to be a laugh) and outright told his doctor that he would not go. She shrugged and told him to think about it, and handed him some kind of pamphlet for beginner yoga classes. He took it – only to be able to throw it out dramatically when he got home– and he left as soon as he could.

When he arrived at his cramped downtown New York City apartment, he took off his coat, only to remember the silly pamphlet that was still in his pocket. He reached into the pocket and fished out the glossy paper.

‘Jean Madeleine’s Yoga Academy’ the front page advertised in flowery font. There was a picture of what was presumably the ‘academy’; a zen-inspired building with a luscious garden outside. The same flowery script read ‘from complete beginners to yoga masters, Jean Madeleine’s classes offer something new for everyone!’. At the bottom of the page, there was a picture of a middle-aged man with curly, greying hair dressed in athletic gear and smiling in sickeningly charming fashion. The image startled him for a moment; that man, presumably the yoga teacher Jean Madeleine, somehow looked very, very familiar. Something about that generically handsome face, coupled with a strong jawline and warm brown eyes was ringing all kinds of bells in his memory. And those arms… Jean Madeleine had his arms crossed over his chest in the photo, showing off a pair of absolutely massive biceps. This man… He… almost looked like… No, a parole-breaking convict does not open a successful yoga gym… But the man was identical… If only he could be seen in person…

And that was how Inspector Javert of the NYPD arrived bright and early on Sunday morning at Jean Madeleine’s yoga academy, a purple yoga mat tucked under his arm and wearing newly purchased workout clothes under his habitual greatcoat. It was 7:45; he was precisely 15 minutes early for the class. He made his way down the cobblestone path which would have led him through the garden were it not winter, and opened the glass door to go inside. Javert was vaguely pleased by the warm air inside the building, but less so by the atmosphere. It was sickeningly tacky; there were fake bamboo stalks and pictures of calm Asian countrysides all around, and soothing piano music was playing softly. Javert sneered.

“Good morning!” called a cheery voice. Javert looked around, and noticed a young woman with short, blonde hair sitting at the reception desk. “Welcome to Jean Madeleine’s yoga academy. Are you here for this morning’s beginner class?” 

“I am,” Javert replied, removing his scarf. 

“Alright, that’s on the first room to your left. Enjoy!”

He muttered a half-hearted ‘thank you’ to the receptionist before he took off his coat and hung it up. He turned to the left.

“Oh, Sir, Mr. Madeleine doesn't allow shoes inside the academy. Can you leave your shoes and socks out here, please?” 

Javert sighed. That task finally complete, he trudged over the the first room on the left, ready for his torture to begin. 

With a little too much determination, the police inspector pushed open the glass doors and entered the spacious room. It was decorated similarly to the rest of the building, but one wall was covered in a massive mirror. Nearest to the mirror side, there was a small gathering of people; four women, each decked out in Lululemon, sitting before an absurdly muscular man. Javert surmised that that must be Jean Madeleine. He did look so familiar, but it was hard to tell whether he was indeed the man Javert was reminded of… After all, this man was well-groomed, unlike the scruffy, wild-looking prisoner. And Jean Madeleine was smiling and laughing with the women; a brilliant smile that brought crinkles to the corner of his warm eyes. 24601 never smiled. 

“Welcome, Sir! We’re just getting to know each other.” Madeleine called happily to Javert. “This is Stephanie,” he pointed to a young woman in a purple tank top, “and then there is Karen,” he gestured to a middle-aged woman with blonde hair, “Catherine”, a chubbier woman Karen’s age waved to Javert, “and Tina,” he finished, designating a woman wearing an absurd colour of lipstick. “And I, of course, am Jean. What is your name?’

“I am Javert,” replied the Inspector. 

Madeleine’s sunshine smile faltered almost imperceptibly for a moment, before returning with even more joy. “A French name, Sir?”

Javert nodded. 

“Wonderful! My family is from France. Do you speak French, Monsieur Javert?”

“Oui, Monsieur Madeleine,” he answered.

Jean Madeleine smiled even wider. “Merveilleux! And please, Javert, call me Jean. We are on a first name basis here.”

The inspector nodded, not mentioning that Javert was not his first name.

“Now, do sit down and join us!”

Javert forced a small smile, unrolling his yoga mat and placing it on the right side of the room, beside Stephanie. He had originally planned to sit at the very back of the room, but with Madeleine directly asking that he joined them, he did not feel he was in a position to refuse. Instead, he sat uncomfortably on his too-bright yoga mat, regarding Madeleine with intensity.


	2. Aching Knees and Slippery Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and commented on this story so far! You have given me so much motivation, and I managed to get past the point at which I'd been stuck for over half a year! Thank you all so much, and I hope you enjoy!!

Javert was fresh out of college when he became a prison guard in Toulon. He was hardly any different back then; perhaps his shoulders were slimmer and he had a few less wrinkles, but he had the same mindset, the same cynicism and hard-headedness that belonged to a man far older than he. He’d had to grow up fast, though. When his mother, a gypsy prostitute, was sent to jail, he’d been sent to a foster home, and then to an all-boys boarding school. He’d only been seven, but he looked four and acted much older. At twenty-three, Javert looked like a teenager – barring his ever-present scowl – and acted, still, much older. It pleased his superiors. He was mature. He didn’t joke around. He listened, he obeyed. 

It was then that he met prisoner 24601: a thief, a decade or so older than Javert and a foot or so shorter, but absolutely bulging with muscle. The man had a scowl that matched Javert’s own, and never cast his eyes down in fright or submission when a guard challenged him. The man had become hardened, dangerous. He had been there for years before Javert started his job as a guard, and had collected many prison tattoos. He had already attempted escape several times, which had prolonged his sentence to 19 years. It was impossible to tell if he cared. When the man was finally released on parole, he broke it, and was never seen again. He was widely assumed to be dead.

But could it be that he had instead assumed a false identity and started a yoga school? It seemed ridiculous. But this Jean Madeleine looked strikingly like that prisoner from all those years ago. Although his hair was not crudely cut off and his face was clean-shaven, Madeleine’s face was so similar to Jean Valjean’s, as was his body. It was just as impressively muscular… though this man had no visible tattoos, though he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Perhaps, Javert thought, Madeleine was simply a relative of Valjean’s. This thought struck him and he suddenly felt very stupid. 

But Madeleine’s smile had faltered, just a little bit, when Javert had mentioned his name. Was this Jean Valjean recognizing his old prison guard?

“Hey there,” came an unfamiliar voice, drawing Javert out of his thoughts. His head snapped around to look at the speaker. It was a man, looking only a few years younger than himself. The man was smiling at him.

Javert forced a little smirk in the man’s direction before turning his focus back to directly ahead of him. 

“My name’s Garreth, by the way,” the man said, unrolling his yoga mat and setting it down right beside Javert’s. Oh, goody. 

“I’m Javert,” he answered.

Garreth sat down on his yoga man with a sigh. “Looks like we’re the only men here, eh?”

Javert grunted in response. 

“Except Jean, of course.” Javert noticed that Garreth pronounced the man’s name like “John”. Javert would have corrected him, but he didn’t feel that the man deserved his breath. 

“You know, apparently, Jean’s in his fifties. His fifties! And he looks like that!”

Javert clenched his jaw. He was tempted to take his stupid yoga mat and move to the other side of the room. 

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Garreth said, leaning towards Javert, “I kinda only signed up for this class ‘cause he’s hot.”

Javert’s eyes widened. The nerve of this man...

Garreth chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Well, everyone, I think we’re about ready to start,” said Madeleine, his voice carrying easily over the class. Javert silently thanked him.

“I’d just like to say, before we start, thank you all very much for coming. I love running these beginner classes because nothing brings me more joy than to see new faces fall in love with yoga as I did in when I was younger. I’d like to warn all of you that this course will push you to your limits, but it will do so safely and in a positive learning environment where you can progress at your own pace. There will be no judgement or negativity between these walls.”

Ironically, Javert thought, he had come to judge.

“For that reason, I will start every class with some easy meditation. Alright, everyone! Lay down on your mat.”

Everyone in the class obeyed, Javert most reluctantly of all.

“Uncross your legs and your arms, and try to let yourself relax. Close your eyes whenever you feel comfortable doing so.”

Javert tried unsuccessfully to relax his limbs. He would not, however, close his eyes around a possible criminal.

“Begin to bring your awareness inwards, to your breath. Notice how your breath feels, and where it is in your body.”

Javert didn’t feel the need to do this. His breath was definitely in his lungs.

“Relax your jaw, and allow your tongue to rest on the roof of your mouth. Relax the space between the eyebrows,” Madeleine continued. Javert wasn’t sure it was possible to relax his always-clenched jaw or his always-knotted brow. He didn’t bother to try. 

“Slowly start to deepen the breath, bringing it deeper into your belly,” instructed Madeleine. “As you inhale, feel your belly expand like a balloon; as you exhale, feel your navel draw toward your spine.”  
The room was suddenly filled with the sound of people breathing with too much gusto. Javert glared at the ceiling.  
“As your breath draws deeper into your belly, there is very little movement, if any, from the chest.”  
More noisy breaths. Javert found it extremely irritating. 

“We are now doing what’s called the ‘yogic breath’ or ‘belly breath’,” Madeleine explained. “This allows for the deepest kind of breathing, replenishing the body and mind, and preparing it for your yoga practice. Now, begin to inhale to a breath count of 5, and exhale to a breath count of 5, counting your own 5 deep breaths. Go at your own pace.”  
Javert decided he might as well try to follow along. He breathed deeply, allowing his midsection to rise and fall. He had a little more of a stomach now than he had in the past, though he was still very slim. This made it hard to know whether his belly was expanding enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, Javert saw that Madeleine was standing, slowly moving amongst the rows of yoga mats. He surveyed everyone as they lay there, breathing deeply, like Javert did on his patrols. However, Madeleine lacked Javert’s piercing glare; his eyes were gentle, kind, as he scanned the crowd of beginners. Javert watched him. Eventually, he walked out of Javert’s line of sight.

“Very good. Keep breathing like that; we’ll be doing diaphragmatic breathing all throughout this course. Now, I would like you to envision yourself breathing in joy, relaxation, and positive energy, and exhaling stress and negative energy.”

Javert almost scoffed. How stupid. One inhales oxygen and other gases, and exhales carbon dioxide and waste. Not joy and stress.

“Very good. Continue to relax and to get rid of all the stress of the day, the stress of the week, everything. None of that matters here. Just relax.”

The man’s voice seemed to be coming closer to him. Javert tensed a little. Indeed, Madeleine appeared back into his field of vision, walking towards him from somewhere nearer to the back of the class. Soon enough, Madeleine’s warm brown eyes were on him, watching as the man barely even pretended to follow along. Madeleine’s eyes locked with his. Javert froze, suddenly afraid that the man would be cross with him. However, the man only smiled reassuringly and nodded at him, before continuing to walk forward.

Javert let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. How was that man so flawlessly kind and level-headed?

“Slowly start to return to a normal, comfortable, pace of breathing,” Madeleine said. Javert obeyed this instruction gladly.

“Take one last deep inhale, and as you exhale open your eyes.”

After a moment, everyone in the room seemed to pop out of their trance, sighing and squirming on their mats.

“Inhale again, and sit up as you exhale,” Madeleine instructed. 

Javert ungracefully pulled himself into a sitting position, only a little light-headed. Madeleine was sitting cross-legged on his mat again, as if he had never moved. However, the image of Madeleine smiling down at him stuck in Javert’s mind uncomfortably. He rubbed his eyes.

“Good job everyone! I know it can be hard to relax completely like that in a room full of strangers, so don’t be discouraged if you couldn’t completely learn how. That will get much easier with time.”

Javert knew Madeleine was talking about him. He looked down.

“But really, a good start, everyone. Breathing and meditation are crucial to finding your body’s true potential. Speaking of crucial, the next thing on the agenda is a stretch. It is absolutely necessary to stretch before doing any physical activity; otherwise, you could injure yourself. This goes especially for those of us who are, uh, in our prime,” he said with a wink. God, this man was insufferably cheesy. There were laughs from all around. Garreth – Javert had almost managed to forget he was there – laughed a little too hard.

“Alright; everyone up!” said Madeleine. The class obeyed, Javert tried not to look too reluctant. 

“We’ll start simple; look over your left shoulder, then your right shoulder, then repeat,” Madeleine explained, demonstrating. 

Javert suppressed a sigh before following Madeleine and the rest of the group in this neck stretch. It was like very slowly shaking his head ‘no’. Exactly how he felt. 

“Now look down,” Madeleine said. Javert looked down at his feet on that stupid-coloured yoga mat.

“Back up...” Javert acquainted himself with the ceiling he’d recently spent a few minutes staring at. 

“Down again… And back up… Good. Now roll your shoulders forwards…”

These stretches seemed to go on forever. At least nothing was difficult so far. Nothing really hurt. His joints had popped far more often than he expected them to, but that was it. Then Madeleine told everyone to touch their toes.

“If you can’t touch your toes, just get as close as you can,” he’d said. Madeleine himself effortlessly bent over and placed his palms on the yoga mat. Javert winced and felt the back of his knees ache in sympathy. When he tried, Javert could barely reach below his knees, and even doing that this quickly became very uncomfortable.

“Slowly return to standing…” 

Javert ignored the ‘slowly’ part, and righted himself as quickly as possible, eager to relieve the stretch in his knees. Madeleine unfurled himself patiently, gracefully.

“Okay, that’s the end of the stretches. I don’t know about you all, but I’m ready for our first real yoga pose!”

Javert and his knees certainly weren’t ready.

“We’ll start easy, I promise,” Madeleine assured them. “Let’s sit down and I’ll show you.”

The inspector was already tired from all this sitting and standing. 

“Lie on your back and bring your knees to your chest,” Madeleine explained, doing so. “You can hold on to your legs or your hands, whichever is more comfortable. Once you’re there, simply rock side to side like this…” After rocking for a moment, he sat back up. “Simple enough? Try that for me now, please.”

Javert slumped down onto his back and gracelessly lifted his legs to his chest, grabbing onto his calves. He felt like an idiot, and he hadn’t even tried to rock yet. He was sure he hadn’t curled up like this since he was much smaller and much more flexible. He took a deep breath and leaned to his left… and almost fell over. Hmm, maybe he’d just stay still instead.

“Very good. Come back to sitting.”

Madeleine waited for everyone to sit up. “Our next pose is only a little more difficult. I’ll demonstrate first. Get on all fours, ensuring that your wrists are aligned with your shoulders and your knees with your hips.” Madeleine said, getting into position as he spoke. “On the inhale, arch your back like so… This is called the cat pose. On the exhale, push your spine towards the ceiling… That’s the cow pose. Again; inhale… exhale… Got it?”

Javert felt equally ridiculous, if not more, doing this pose. Now he had a direct view of the rear end of the woman in front of him, he began to fret about how his own behind looked in these newly-purchased shorts. He hoped he looked like less of a fool than he felt.

To make matters worse, Madeleine was patrolling through the rows of mats again, chanting “inhale… exhale…” and sometimes helping someone to adjust their form (“don’t be alarmed if I touch you,” he’d warned. Javert knew he’d be alarmed anyway). At some point, he stopped by Javert. He’d squatted beside the nervous inspector and placed a gentle hand on his back, at which Javert had shuddered a little. The inspector struggled to keep moving as he had before with this possible-criminal’s hand warm and heavy on him. Madeleine moved it after a few inhales and exhales. “Very good, Javert,” he’d said, before standing and moving on his way. Javert didn’t know why he was blushing. 

And so the class went on, a messy, sweaty blur of downward-facing-dogs and warriors and every so often, Madeleine’s infernal hands on Javert’s body for fleeting but nerve-wracking moments, eventually culminating in a cool-down in child’s pose, which was Javert’s favourite pose thus far. 

After this, Madeleine said some goodbye speech about how much of a pleasure it was to be teaching this class, and that he looked forward to seeing everyone next week for their second class. Finally, it was time to go. Everyone rolled up their yoga mats and left on their way. Garreth said a goodbye to Javert that he ignored.

Javert couldn’t get his damned yoga mat back into the damned bag. 

Javert wasn’t expecting this to be so difficult, but whatever way he rolled it, it just wouldn’t go in right. He growled softly at the thing, growing very irritated. 

Javert heard a chuckle from somewhere above him. “Would you like some assistance?” came Madeleine’s smooth voice.

Javert looked up at the man, realizing a lock of his hair was obstructing his vision. “I’ll manage, thank you,” he said through clenched teeth. He tried again to shove the yoga mat into its bag, only for it to come unraveled once more. He sighed. 

Madeleine laughed kindly. “Here, let me do it for you.” He sat down, and, before Javert could protest, had begun to roll the mat up tightly. Javert tucked his hair behind his ear, watching Madeleine’s hands as they worked quickly and dexterously.

“Yoga mats are slippery boys,” Madeleine assured him with a wink. 

Javert raised an eyebrow but made no comment.

“You’ll get the hang of it, though,” the instructor told him. “Bag, please?”

Javert handed him the bad that he was still clutching onto, and Madeleine slid the rolled-up mat inside. He made it look so easy. “There we go.” Madeleine tightened the drawstring on the bag and handed it back to Javert with his incredible smile. Javert took it. “Thanks,” he muttered, and stood. Madeleine stood as well, albeit with much more grace. At this proximity, Javert noticed that Madeleine came up to his shoulders. That would place him at about the same height as Valjean. But, God, it was hard to think about Valjean now… Madeleine was irritatingly kind, and irritatingly handsome, especially up close, and Garreth was right, he looked good for a man in his fifties. Jean Valjean had looked much older than he really was, whereas this man radiated health and happiness. Still, that face was so similar. 

“Great job today, Javert,” Madeleine said. 

Javert scoffed. “I hardly think so. I could barely keep up with everyone.”

“What did I say about negativity? Leave that outside, Javert,” Madeleine scolded him gently. 

Javert sighed. “Right, yeah. Suck up joy and all that.”

Madeleine laughed, then– genuinely. Javert hadn’t realized that the other laughs he’d heard from this man weren’t genuine, but now… If Madeleine was sunshine before, now he was the sun and a thousand stars. Javert’s heart skipped a beat at the sound. When Madeleine stopped laughing, he regarded Javert, his eyes alight with joy. Javert found himself unable to look away.

“Right. I’m serious, though. You did very well today, and you’ll only get better from here on in.”

Javert nodded and swallowed down the bizarre tension that had stricken his throat in the past minute or so. “Thank you.” He began to walk towards the door to leave the room, but he remembered what he had come here to do. He turned back around. “Wait, one more thing…”

Madeleine looked up. “Yes, Javert?”

“Mister Madeleine, is it possible that we have met before? You seem familiar to me.”

Javert watched closely for another falter in Madeleine’s smile. None came. In fact, he smiled wider as he walked towards Javert. “I… don’t think we’ve met before, no. I don’t do much outside running the Academy, and before that, well, I lived in France.”

“I lived in France, too,” Javert said.

Still, Madeleine didn’t falter. His eyes widened in happy surprise. “Really? Well, perhaps we ran into each other once. But I’m sure we never met each other properly. I never forget a face, and I surely wouldn’t forget yours.”

Javert blushed a little. What was that? A compliment? An insult?

“And please, Javert, call me Jean! You’re probably the only one who will pronounce my name correctly!” he begged jokingly.

“Alright, Mister… Jean,” the first name – the same as the convict’s – felt very strange.

Madeleine laughed, touching Javert’s forearm. “Close enough. Well, take it easy, alright? I’ll see you next week.” Madeleine winked. Actually winked, again. Why did he keep winking? 

Javert couldn’t breathe. He simply nodded with a little stiff smile and practically bolted out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Javert being unable to roll up a yoga mat is inspired by me. I find it so difficult to put yoga mats away, it's not even funny. PLEASE tell me I'm not the only one with this problem. 
> 
> P.S. Slippery boy


	3. Open Hips Routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot stop writing this. I cannot believe how quickly I am progressing with this fic. I'm proud!
> 
> WARNING: This chapter contains EXPLICIT CONTENT WRITTEN BY A VIRGIN!!!! 
> 
> This chapter is basically pure filler, so you can skip it if you're uncomfortable with such things. I'll put a summary of what happens in the end notes if you don't want to read it.
> 
> For my fellow filth, this is the first time I've ever posted anything smutty, so please tell me if it's hot or horrible. Thanks.
> 
> Enjoy (?)

That night, Javert sat in bed on his laptop and stared at the Google Chrome window he’d opened nearly half an hour ago.

This was technically for work, he told himself. He really should do this. It wasn’t just self-indulgence. Still, he couldn’t even make himself type “Jean Madeleine” into the search bar.

It was partly because, after meeting the man, Javert realized Madeleine was so unlike Jean Valjean that he felt silly about the suspicions he’d had. It was partly because Madeleine seemed like such a genuinely good person that Javert didn’t feel like it was right to infringe on the man’s privacy like this.   
Javert frowned. This wasn’t an invasion of privacy. He wasn’t breaking into the man’s house; simply googling his name! It was normal to search up one’s new doctor, dentist, probably yoga teacher too, to find reviews and such. With this thought in mind, Javert took a breath, quickly typed “Jean Madeleine”, and hit enter. 

Once the page loaded, he noticed that the first result was the website of the yoga academy. There’d be nothing about his past there, Javert reasoned. However, as Javert kept scrolling, kept poring over link after link, he noticed there didn’t seem to be much about Madeleine’s past anywhere at all. There were Yelp reviews (overwhelmingly positive), photos of Madeleine and of his school, blog posts from past and current students of his. Everything was recent. The earliest evidence of Madeleine’s existence was from eight years ago, when the Academy first opened. This in itself was a little suspicious, but it wasn't evidence. Javert sighed in defeat.   
Then, a video thumbnail caught his eye. It was a man doing an absolutely ridiculous yoga pose– Javert couldn’t quite make it out, but it looked like he had one of his own legs on his shoulder. Was that Madeleine? Curious, Javert clicked on it.

The video took a moment to load. It was titled “Open Hips Routine (Intermediate) – Yoga With Jean Madeleine”, and it had been posted only a week ago, but already had about 100, 000 views. The video started playing, and Javert turned his volume down a little so as not to shock anyone in his building with a yoga tutorial at midnight.

Why was Javert watching this, anyway?

The video opened by fading from black. Jean Madeleine sat cross-legged on his yoga mat in the same studio Javert had been in that morning. However, the light was softer; the video was likely edited to make it more relaxing, or something. 

“Hello everyone, and welcome to another video,” greeted Madeleine cheerfully. His smile was not as genuine as the ones Javert had seen in person, but that was to be expected. It was charming nevertheless. Javert noticed that the light in this video really suited Madeleine and his smile, and his eyes, and his hair...

“This week, I’ll be showing you one of my favourite sequences. This workout will help you to open your hips, which greatly reduces hip pain and keeps you bendy. Let’s get started!”

Javert noticed there was cheesy techno-type music playing in the background. He scoffed.

The camera panned back. “We’ll start in a downward dog,” Madeleine said in the video, “So, get onto your hands and knees, making sure your hands are aligned with your elbows and your knees with your hips. Gently tuck your toes onto the mat and lift your hips all the way up and back,” he said, effortlessly sliding into the pose that Javert remembered attempting that morning. “If you want, you can slowly move your legs a little, start to loosen up your body…” Madeleine bent his knees a bit, one leg at a time, effectively swaying his ass from side to side. Javert gulped. “Next, we’ll go into a downward dog split,” Madeleine continued. “Take a deep breath in, and, on the exhale, lift your right leg all the way out behind you, making sure your right leg and your torso make a nice, straight line.” As Madeleine explained it, he did exactly that, swiftly and effortlessly, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Somehow, his voice didn’t shake or strain as he spoke, even with what he was doing with his legs. “If that’s enough of a stretch,” the man said, “you can stay there, but I like to bend my knee out like this, keeping my toes pointed.” He bent his knee so that his toes were pointing towards the imaginary audience. The camera angle switched to a back view of Madeleine. This was probably meant to show the angle of Madeleine’s leg – was that normal? It didn’t look normal to Javert – but Javert found himself focusing instead on Madeleine’s firm-looking ass, and how it looked very enticing in those tight shorts.

Javert didn’t usually lust after anyone like this, but it happened occasionally. Although he fancied himself the master of his own feelings, he was a warm-blooded gay man, and Jean Madeleine was plenty handsome enough to remind him of this fact. 

“After a few breaths,” the video continued, “swing your leg back under your body, letting your foot land softly on your mat, beside your right hand.” The camera angle switched back as the man’s leg fluidly swung down and his foot came to rest beside the pinky finger of his right hand. “You should really feel your hips starting to loosen up. Now, gently lower yourself onto your left knee– really make sure not to put too much pressure on your kneecap. This is already quite a big stretch, but if you really want to open those hips, you can lower yourself onto your arms.” Madeleine slid his arms forward and let his weight rest on his forearms. Javert could see his biceps bulging out as he did so. “If this is uncomfortable or if it hurts, you can go back up onto your hands. Never push yourself too hard, that’s how you get injured. Now I’m going to stay down here for a few breaths.” Javert listened to Madeleine’s deep, even breaths, and shivered. “When you’re ready, slowly come back up onto your hands and straighten that back leg. On your next inhale, turn your right foot outwards and reach your right arm all the way up like this, nice and gentle.” Madeleine twisted, his right arm reaching high into the air. “Now, heel-toe scooch your right foot back to the center of your mat, and bring your right arm down. Slide onto your left knee again for a nice, low lunge. We’ll stay here for a bit, but you can move your hips back and forth a little if you like.” What happened next was obscene; Madeleine slowly rocked his hips up and down, only a little, but with his legs spread in a lunge like this, the movement was a cruel parody of something much more intimate. Javert bit his lip at the sight. Though Madeleine’s shorts were too dark for him to be sure, Javert thought he saw the bulge of the man’s cock… “Now, take a big inhale, and, as you exhale, lift your hips up a little so that you can slide your leg sideways like this, so that you’re in the pigeon pose.” Thankfully for Javert, this pose still allowed him to stare at the man’s crotch, attempting to make anything out. “Make sure you’re comfortable and that nothing is hurting. If you’re uncomfortable, you can pull your right leg closer to your body. Now, lengthen your body and lean back…” How did Madeleine look so majestic like this? “Take a couple breaths… and slowly lower yourself all the way down onto your arms. Take a few more breaths and relax like this.” Javert swallowed, impatient for Madeleine to expose himself again. “When you’re ready, come back up, nice and slowly. Okay; now gently swing your left leg around and sit cross-legged.” Javert wasn’t quite sure how exactly Madeleine managed that. Madeleine smiled wider at the camera, a little mischievous. “Now comes the fun part. Take that left leg and gently lift it, and hook it onto your shoulder like so…” What? Javert watched in disbelief as Madeleine did exactly that. “Don’t be discouraged if you can’t do this right away. It takes a lot of practice.” Madeleine was still smiling at the camera… Oh, God, with his legs spread like this, it was absolutely lewd. Javert felt his cock twitch in his pants. He swallowed. “And if you want, you can take that leg, grab onto your foot, and lift it until it’s straight… Make sure to lean on your left hand for balance… And just take slow and easy breaths, open everything nice and wide.” Javert’s jaw dropped at the sight. How was that possible? Madeleine’s head was leaning into his knee, his left leg pointed straight into the air. He was only balanced by his left hand and his right leg, which was still bent at the knee. Javert had to pause the video to appreciate it fully. Madeleine’s legs were spread more than the inspector thought humanly possible, or normal, or… Oh, there it was. Javert looked between Madeleine’s legs, and now, the shape of his cock was unmistakable, on display like this. And it was, well, massive. Spectacular. Even soft as it was, it looked large and heavy in his shorts, nestled quietly between his legs. Javert couldn’t look away. God, this was hot. Madeleine was hot and the way his leg was lifted like a dog taking a piss was hot and his massive dick was doing unspeakable things to Javert. How he wished he could have Madeleine like this... alone, nude. He imagined Madeleine smiling at him innocently as he spread his legs wide, wider than should be possible, his gigantic cock standing free and proud between his open thighs. Javert whimpered aloud and slammed his laptop shut. With a desperate grunt, he reached into his pants and pulled his erection free. He tugged at himself mercilessly, his eyes closed to better fill his mind with images of Madeleine. He imagined the man’s smile replaced with slack-jawed bliss as he moved on top of Javert, his massive cock plunging in and out of the younger man at a fast rhythm; his deep breaths starting slow and measured, but eventually giving way to desperate pants. Javert had to bite his fist to keep from crying out. He imagined Madeleine’s large, heavy hands on him as they had been that morning, but instead of fleeting and light, lingering, possessive. That smooth, even voice broken with pleasure as he moaned loudly. ‘Oh, Javert… you’re doing so well!’ 

Javert couldn’t stop his muffled shout as he spilled himself into his hand. Had he not been biting his fist, the shout would’ve been a name. Valjean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TG;DR (too gross; didn't read): Javert Internet-stalks Madeleine in an attempt to uncover information regarding the man's past. He finds nothing of use, but he does come across a video of Madeleine doing some more advanced yoga. Javert enjoys this video very much, but it brings old memories of Jean Valjean to his mind once again. 
> 
> I basically transcribed a YouTube video for this routine, so you can't tell me it's impossible. Thanks to Tara Stiles for being freakishly bendy.
> 
> Omg this is literally Adduction again but worse... why am I obsessed with Javert salivating over Valjean's body? RIP
> 
> P.S. Slippery Boy is my legacy


	4. What's In a Name?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the OC action in this chapter :/

Javert had always tried to ignore his attraction to Jean Valjean.  
  
Really, he'd tried to ignore his attraction to men in general, but mostly Valjean.  
  
The man was a criminal, an outlaw, and he never showed any sign of regret for his crimes. He was rude and didn't respect the authority of the prison guards.  
  
But none of this changed the fact that, on the most shallow, superficial level, the man was attractive. He had a handsome face and a handsomer body. Behind the ugly prison tattoos, there was hulking strength and solid muscle that never failed to catch Javert’s eye.  
  
Javert didn't want to admit to himself that he found this convict attractive, but it was the truth.  
  
Besides, he told himself, it was not as his he had fallen in love with the man. Love was an emotion. Love was weakness. Lust, however, was only natural. Lust could be cured with strokes of his own hand; lust did not impede him from doing his duty.  
  
Javert never allowed his attraction to get in the way of his job. He wouldn't, he couldn't, and he didn't.  
  
Thus, there was really no problem.  
  
But why was he still thinking of this Jean Valjean so many years later? Why was the man still on his mind?  
  
And why, in this moment of pleasure, did his mind choose to supply him with the name Valjean?  
  
Perhaps it was simply that he had only ever felt so strongly about Valjean before now, and his mind was so conditioned to think of Valjean as he pleasured himself that he did so decades after the fact.  
  
Or, perhaps… it was a stupid thought, but perhaps, Valjean and Madeleine were, after all, the same person.  
  
Javert snorted. He imagined himself going into court. ‘This man is none other than the escaped convict Jean Valjean,’ he'd say. ‘What evidence do you have to support this claim?’ ‘He kind of looks like Valjean, there's no online record of his past, and, oh, my boner.’  
  
Javert was ashamed of himself. How could he have ever been so stupid as to think Madeleine was Valjean? He was being foolish, and he was being shameful. It was an insult to Madeleine; a good, honest man making honest business. And Javert had further disgraced him by touching himself to one of Madeleine’s videos. What had become of him?  
  
Javert washed his hands, both of his mess and of the matter, and resolved not to think about it anymore.  
  
He succeeded, actually; he threw himself into his work, as he always did. He repressed every thought and feeling he had, and locked everything away in some dark corner of his mind. He worked hard, and spent the rest of his time eating or sleeping. He did not allow himself a single moment to think about convicts or yoga teachers.  
  
However, Saturday morning rolled around, as it is inclined to do.  
  
Javert seriously considered not going to class. He seriously considered never going again. He didn't want to be reminded of his failures, both as an inspector and as a human being. He didn't want that man to honour him with that gorgeous smile, knowing how he had wronged Madeleine … and knowing how that exact smile had stirred him in unforgivable ways.  
  
But, damn it, he’d payed for 10 weeks of classes. He’d bought a yoga mat and workout clothes that he was unlikely to ever use, if not now. Javert wasn’t made of money! He was going to get everything he could out of this investment.

At least that’s what he told himself.

Regardless of the reason, Inspector Javert returned to the yoga academy that morning. He forced a quick smile at the receptionist, doffed his coat, boots, and socks, and ventured into the studio again.  
Similarly to the last week, there was a small gathering of people sitting at the front of the room. However, among them now was the irritating young man Javert remembered as Garreth. He was sitting close – too close – to Madeleine, but the yoga instructor looked cheerful as ever.

Javert flushed as he lay eyes on Madeleine. He recalled that video, and what it had shown him about the man. He couldn’t see it now, but he knew that if Madeleine were to move his hands, which were in his lap at the moment, Javert would see the bulge in his shorts…

“Javert! How lovely to see you again!” Madeleine called out merrily.

Javert wanted to smack himself. Thinking such things in private was bad enough, but while in public? Disgusting. Javert smiled at the man and went to unroll his yoga mat – what had Madeleine called it? A slippery boy? What on Earth was that? – as far away as he could from Madeleine without seeming rude. After he sat down, the young woman in front of him turned around, smiling.

“Hey,” she said.

Oh, God. Was she going to be like Garreth? He didn’t want another Garreth.  
  
“Hello,” he answered curtly.

“I like your hair,” she said.

Javert, unused to compliments on anything other than his work, blushed a little. “Oh, uh, thank you…”

The woman giggled. “Seriously! Not many guys have long hair as healthy as yours. I don’t think that many girls do, either. I noticed that last week, but I didn’t have the chance to tell you.”

Javert just stared at her, very confused.

“Oh, sorry, I’m being weird. I’m Stephanie. Your name’s Javert, right?”

“...Yes.”

Stephanie was still smiling. “I know that because Jean” – she sort of said his name correctly – “just screamed your name when you walked in the door. You know why that’s weird? Jean is so bad with names. My co-worker, Anna – real easy name, right? – well, she takes classes here – she actually was the one who got me to take this class – and he called her Anne, Annie, Anya… whatever, for, like, four weeks. He knows everyone personally, like, he knows your face and your personality and all that, but he just can’t get names. You must have really made an impression on him, I guess.”

Javert’s interest was piqued enough by this that he was able to tolerate Stephanie’s rambling. The gears in his mind started turning faster. “Really? He’s that bad with names? That’s very strange, then; he got my name right away, and it’s not like it’s a common one.”

Stephanie cocked her head to the side. “I know, right? I would never remember your name if I just heard it once. Did he already know you from before? Or hear about you or something?”

Javert smirked. This was interesting indeed. “Perhaps he did.”

“Okay, I think it’s eight o’clock now!” Madeleine said over the buzz of conversation. “We can get ready to start. Can you move back a little, Gary?”

“It’s Garreth.”

Madeleine cringed. “Gosh, I’m sorry! I’m so awful with names!”

“Do you remember any of our names?” Stephanie asked.

The instructor laughed awkwardly. “Oh, boy…”

“Go around the room and try to name all of us!” she suggested.

“No, no! That’ll just be embarrassing!” Madeleine said.

Javert smirked. “Give it a try! You should really know the names of all your students,” he said.

Madeleine sighed. “Fine, alright. Don’t be offended if I don’t remember your name, okay? I really just have the worst memory for names. Uh, let’s see… Let’s start from the front here….” He pointed to a young Asian woman on the right side of the front row. “You’re…” he visibly racked his brain. “Oh, no… You’re the one who’s already as flexible as I am because you do ballet… Uh… first letter?”

“B,” she told him.

“Uh… B… Bethany?”

“Nope, not even close,” she laughed.

“Brenda?”

She laughed harder. “It’s Brittany!”

“Oh, right!” Madeleine rubbed his forehead. “Brittany, Brittany, Brittany… Okay, next, uh…” He pointed to the next woman. She was middle-aged, and Javert recognized her as one of the first four women to show up last week. “Uh… You’re an elementary school teacher, I remember that. Hmm… Kelly?”

“Karen,” the woman answered.

“Ugh, off to a bad start,” Madeleine joked. “Okay, um, next, we have Ga… Garreth! And then there’s, uh…” It was absurd-lipstick-woman, this time wearing yellow lipstick. “You’re an art student. And your name starts with… R?”

“Nope. T.”

“Tracy?”

“Nope.”

“Only give me one guess, you guys, put me out of my misery!” Madeleine begged, receiving quite a few laughs.

“It’s Tina,” she said.

“Right! Well, that’s one out of 4 so far.” More laughter. Javert was still smirking.  
Stephanie was right; he was horrible with names. In fact, after he had gone around the entire room, he could only name 3 of the 21 students.

“You only remembered me, Garreth, and Javert!” Stephanie complained.

Madeleine shook his head sadly. “I know, I’m sorry!”

“And you know me because of Anna, Garreth just reminded you of his name, and Javert…”

Javert smiled wickedly. “Yes, Jean, how did you learn my name so quickly? One would think it would take decades to remember ‘Javert’,” he said.

And there it was. Madeleine’s face paled, and he froze. Javert had caught him. His smile grew wider still. Now that was something to work off of.

Of course, the moment was gone as quickly as it came. Madeleine laughed – hearty, but not the genuine laugh Javert had heard, the one that brought light to his eyes and made Javert’s heart … uh, that laugh, yes, it wasn’t that laugh – and shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a French name.”

The class passed somewhat normally after that. Madeleine was careful not to reveal anything more to Javert; in fact, the man didn’t even look at him as Javert lay with his eyes open during the meditation, didn’t even touch him to correct his form.

Javert was too busy revelling in the glory of his small victory over Madeleine to think about how he wished the man would touch him. Okay, maybe he did wish it anyway. Maybe he silently wished it every time Madeleine passed his yoga mat. Maybe he stared at Madeleine’s hand as it pressed against Stephanie’s back to help her with her downward dog, and maybe he was jealous of her. But it didn’t matter.

Maybe it did matter, just a tiny bit.

Maybe his attraction to Madeleine was getting in the way.

At the end of the class, Javert rolled up his yoga mat and tried to put it in the bag. He sighed as it sprung out. Not again.

“Looks like you’re still not used to yoga mat-wrangling.”

Javert was a little surprised to hear Madeleine next to him. He looked up. “No, unfortunately. Would you be so kind as to help me again?”

“Of course, Javert,” Madeleine said, and knelt down beside him. He made quick work of the yoga mat and put it back in the bag. He smiled at Javert, but it was cold and distant.

“Is everything alright? You seem upset in some way,” Javert asked with mock concern.

“Do I? I’m sorry. I assure you, though, I am fine.”

Javert could feel himself gaining ground. It was only a matter of time. “You've been avoiding me. I've upset you, haven't I?”

Madeleine’s eyes widened. “What? Oh, no, Javert, you've done nothing to upset me! I'm sorry if you felt I was avoiding you, but I was not doing so at all! If you'd like more assistance in future classes, I will gladly give it to you–”

“–It was what I said about you remembering my name. You went pale. When I said that it should have taken you decades to learn my name. You were upset by that.”

Madeleine laughed nervously. Javert felt the man withdrawing further and further away from his usual persona; further and further away from anything genuine. It was such a far cry from last week after class that Javert almost missed that Madeleine…

“Javert, I don't know what you're getting at. I truly appreciate your concern for me, but I am okay, honestly. Earlier, I was simply flustered about the whole situation. I do feel bad when I can't remember the names of my students.” Madeleine stood up.

Javert decided to back off, at least for the moment. He smiled coldly and stood up as well. “Alright, if you insist.” He nodded to Madeleine and walked towards the door. “Good day.” He opened the door and left.

He was unpleasantly surprised to see Garreth standing in front of the reception desk. When Javert opened the door, the young man looked right past him.

“Jean!” he called out, “Jean, are you there?”

Madeleine appeared from inside the studio. “Yes, what is it, uh... ?” Apparently he had forgotten Garreth’s name already, which gave Javert more happiness than it should have.

“Your receptionist was telling me that you offer private classes?” Garreth said.

Madeleine had since reacquired his charming smile and his positive demeanor. He beamed as he walked past Javert, still standing by the door, and up to the younger man. “I do indeed! Why, are you interested?”

Garreth smirked flirtatiously. “Yes, I would love to spend 1-on-1 time with you, Jean.”

Javert rolled his eyes.

Madeleine laughed, likely noticing the intent behind Garreth’s words, but pointedly ignoring it. “Well, in that case, what day of the week would you like? I have a few half-hour slots left.”

“Anytime that works for you,” Garreth said nonchalantly.

“Well, uh… Fantine, can you pull up my schedule?” he asked the receptionist. She nodded and clicked a few things on the computer. Madeleine leaned over the desk to look at the screen. “Hmm… I’m more heavily booked than I’d thought. I’m assuming you work or go to school during the weekdays, so that leaves you, um… Monday evening at 6:30, Thursday evening at 7:00, or Saturday morning at 10:30.”

“Hmm… Thursday evening sounds perfect!” Garreth replied.

“Wonderful!” Madeleine said. “I look forward to it! As I’m sure Fantine told you, my private sessions really allow us time to get to know each other, in the yoga sense.”

Garreth smiled. “Yes. I can’t wait, Jean.” His voice was dripping with attempted seductiveness, making Javert want to throw up.

However, he also came up with something ingenious. “Mister Madeleine, is it possible for me to have the Saturday morning slot for a private lesson of my own?”

Madeleine froze. He turned to Javert with a smile that didn’t hide his panic from Javert’s trained eyes. “You want private lessons as well? On Saturday morning? I’m not sure how much good it would do, so soon after the class…”

“Saturday is my only day off, Sir,” Javert explained.

Madeleine smiled uncomfortably. “Oh, well, in that case, I’d, uh, I’d be happy to have you, Javert!”

The inspector smiled as he gave a curt nod. “Thank you.”

“Could we perhaps start next week? It’s difficult to take students on such short notice. I need to, uh, prepare myself, you see,” Madeleine said.

“Alright.”

Madeleine looked a little relieved. “Thank you for your understanding. Well, Javert, I’ll see you next week.” He turned to Garreth. “You too.” Then he walked away, turning down a hallway Javert hadn't been down before.

Feeling very proud of himself, Javert put on his socks, boots, and coat, and ventured back outside. He had only taken a few steps when he heard:

“Hey, stop right there!”

Javert turned around at the voice. He raised an eyebrow at Garreth, who was facing him, looking absolutely furious.

“What are you trying to do? Jean’s mine!”

“Jean belongs to no one,” Javert stated, putting emphasis on Madeleine’s correctly-pronounced first name.

“Stop pretending you don't know what I'm talking about!” Garreth said, his face hilariously red. “I told you I find Jean hot, and here you are, going after him too!”

Javert shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I am here for much more professional reasons.”

“Right, yeah. I see you in class, not even trying, but you're signing up for a private session with Jean because you suddenly care so much about yoga. I don't believe a word of that.”

“Has it occurred to you, Garreth, that I might not give a damn what you believe?”

The man gaped, eyes widening in offense. He sputtered for a moment before he could speak. “Well, Jean wouldn't want a mean old man like you, anyway!”

Javert smiled. “Nor would he want a manchild who doesn't care about his craft or the correct pronunciation of his name. Good day, Garreth.”

With that, Javert walked to his car. As soon as the door was closed, he let out a bark of laughter. What a wonderful morning it had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it alright that I didn't describe much actual yoga in this chapter?  
> Regardless, I'll make up for it in the next chapter with SPICY ONE-ON-ONE YOGA TIME (which will not actually be that spicy)


	5. A Safe and Positive Learning Environment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promised actual yoga in this chapter, but I got sent in another direction... Oops...
> 
> I think this is more exciting, though, in a way?
> 
> I promise there will actually definitely be yoga next chapter. Definitely.

Javert waltzed into the Academy next Saturday morning, bursting with energy and a kind of joie-de-vivre he hadn’t felt since… Well, a long time. He shed his coat, boots, and socks with not a single grumble, and the grin he shot at the receptionist had a nearly human tooth-to-gum ratio. Javert walked into the yoga studio with almost a spring in his step.    
  
Today, he was the first one here.    
  
Madeleine looked up from the book he had in his lap with a prepared smile, which became noticeably less radiant when the man recognized Javert.   
  
“Javert, you’re... quite early,” Madeleine said.   
  
“Yes, I woke up early this morning, and I saw no reason to linger.” Javert paused. “Unless I’m too early,” he said, feigning concern.    
  
“Oh, no,” Madeleine assured him, “you’re not too early. It’s alright. In fact, I’m glad we’re here alone. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”   
  
Javert’s heart beat a little faster. Could this be a confession, already? “Oh?”   
  
“Yes. I was going to talk to you about this in your private session, but now is even better. Come here,” he beckoned. 

Javert nodded and walked towards Madeleine.

“Sit down.” Javert sat. “Javert, it has been brought to my attention that you have been… less than courteous to a certain member of this class.”  
  
Javert tried not to roll his eyes. “Garreth?”  
  
Madeleine nodded. “Yes. In fact, on his private lesson on Thursday, he informed me that you said…” Madeleine flipped back a few pages in his book. It was a notebook of sorts, Javert noticed, filled with a neat, fancy cursive, apparently Madeleine’s. “... you told him that you ‘don’t give a darn what he believes’ and called him a ‘manchild’.” Madeleine looked up. “Is that true?”  
  
“No. I said I don’t give a /damn/ what he believes,” Javert corrected.   
  
Madeleine frowned. “Javert… This behaviour is very unbecoming and will not be tolerated. I have promised my students a safe and positive learning environment, and I will not have it compromised. I will not warn you again; next time I hear of something like this, I will have to ask you to leave my school permanently. Is that understood?”  
  
Javert nodded. “Yes. That is clear. However, I would like to point out that Garreth called me a ‘mean old man’.”  
  
Madeleine smiled, causing the corners of his eyes to crinkle– a genuine smile. Why did this taste so much sweeter than watching Madeleine’s struggle last week?  
  
“I don’t think that was totally uncalled for, Javert,” Madeleine said.  
  
“What, you think I’m a mean old man?”  
  
“No. But what you said to Garreth made you seem like one. Could you please endeavour to be polite?”  
  
“Are you not going to ask the context in which these words were said?”  
  
Madeleine frowned again. Javert didn’t like his frown; he much prefered his smile. “Javert…”  
  
The inspector sighed. “Alright, I promise to try my hardest to be polite and personable to everyone.”  
  
Madeleine nodded. “Thank you, Javert.”  
  
Neither man said anything for a minute or so, after which the usual gang of early arrivers began to show up. Javert, who had not yet unrolled his yoga mat, moved further back and did so. He sat on it with a sigh.  
  
He felt… deflated. His conversation with Madeleine had extinguished his short-lived excitement.  
  
Javert thought back to Garreth’s words last week. ‘Jean wouldn’t want a mean old man like you, anyway.’ Apparently, it was true. Javert should have guessed that the man would take Garreth’s side; Madeleine was all about positive energy, and Javert was, well, not. Garreth had been kind to Madeleine – overly so–, and Javert had been domineering and manipulative. Sure, that had gotten him somewhere with his investigation, but Jean was pushing him away, holding him at arm's’ length while Javert wanted to search the secrets of his heart…  
  
Of course Jean didn’t want a mean old man. And he had a way to get rid of mean old men.   
  
The class went by similarly to the other two, except for Garreth sat as far away from Javert as he could, and Madeleine seemed to be trying as hard as possible to give Javert exactly the average amount of attention. This week, Javert had to try to balance on one leg, which was next to impossible for him. He had wonderful balance on two feet, but on one? Not happening. He also had to squat for quite a long time, which was unpleasant, to say the least. But all in all, the class went fairly smoothly.   
  
Javert still had his usual trouble rolling up his yoga mat. Madeleine wordlessly came to help him, kneeling down and rolling up the mat. Once he was done, he looked to Javert. “You try to put it in the bag now,” Madeleine said, holding out the rolled-up mat. Javert cautiously took it with one hand.  
  
“Whoa, whoa… you have to hold it like this, otherwise it’s just going to unravel,” Madeleine said, demonstrating. Javert did the same as Madeleine. His hands were a good deal larger than the other man’s, at least by the length of his fingers, so he found that when he held the mat like this, he had no problem keeping it rolled up.  
  
“There you go, Javert!” Madeleine praised him with another cautious but real smile. He took the bag and held it open. “Go for it.”  
  
Javert carefully slid the yoga mat into the bag. Shockingly, he managed it. Madeleine tugged on the drawstring to close the bag. “Hey, you did it!” he said, and pat Javert on the shoulder.   
  
Javert smiled back at him a little. “I did indeed. Thank you.”  
  
Madeleine handed the bag back to Javert. “You’re most welcome. Well, I’ll see you in… an hour and a half, Javert. The private lessons are in a different studio to this one; down the other hall. There are four doors; the first one’s the bathroom, then there’s my office, and the third is the room you’re looking for. At the end of the hall is the hot yoga room… I’ll be teaching my next class there… Starts this week, actually. But you don’t need to worry about that. If you somehow get lost, just ask Fantine, alright?” He stood up, and held a hand out to Javert, who cautiously took it. Madeleine pulled Javert to his feet… Wow, Madeleine was strong – Javert was thin, but he wasn’t light. “Got it?” Madeleine asked.  
  
“Uh, yes. See you at 10:30, then,” Javert said.  
  
“See you.” Madeleine was still smiling, still holding his forearm. Madeleine let go then, and walked out the studio. He held the door open for Javert, but didn’t look back.  
  
Some people had gathered outside the studio. Among them was, unfortunately, Garreth. This man smiled at Madeleine and began to open his mouth to speak.   
  
“I’m sorry, Garth. I have to go teach another class,” Madeleine explained, walking by.  
  
Javert looked at Garreth and stuck his tongue out at the younger man.  
  
Garreth’s jaw dropped. “Jean!” he yelled out.   
  
“I have to go,” said Madeleine, still walking.  
  
“Javert stuck his tongue out at me!” Garreth yelled like a bratty child.  
  
At this point, most everyone in the room was silent, watching the scene unfolding before them.  
  
Madeleine stopped and turned around. He raised an eyebrow at Garreth. “That’s ridiculous. Javert wouldn’t do that. Leave the man alone, won’t you?” Madeleine walked away.  
  
Garreth was fuming. He turned back to Javert. “If there were a cop around here, I swear to God…”  
  
Javert grinned, mostly gums. “Inspector Javert of the NYPD, at your service!” he said, saluting histrionically.  
  
Garreth all but screamed in frustration as he stomped out of the academy. Javert smiled, pleased with himself, as he went to get his things.   
  
So much for Madeleine not wanting a mean old man.   
  
He’d brought his laptop with him so that he could work while he was waiting for his lesson. By the time he’d gone out to his car, retrieved his laptop bag, and walked back into the Academy, the people that were waiting around earlier had all disappeared. He surmised they were in the next class. Javert selected a bench that looked more like a seat and less like some piece modern art made of bamboo, and he sat. He waited impatiently for his aging Acer running Windows XP to start up.   
  
“Um, Javert?” came a quiet voice. He looked up; it was the receptionist, Fantine.   
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Not to pry, but… Well, I saw you and Garreth fighting, and… Are you really a police officer?” she asked.   
  
“I am,” he replied.   
  
Fantine smiled. “That makes it even better. Jean would be disappointed in me for saying this, but… It was fun to watch someone put him in his place.”  
  
Javert smirked. “Well, thank you. It was my pleasure. The man’s a ninny.”  
  
Fantine laughed. “Yeah… He keeps bothering me to ask questions about Jean’s personal life… ‘Is he married? Does he have a girlfriend? What about a boyfriend?’ Blah, blah, blah… I’m like, I don’t even know this stuff.”  
  
It suddenly occurred to Javert that Madeleine could be in a relationship… Not married, obviously, as Javert would have noticed a ring. But he could be in a relationship. This thought made Javert unhappy, obviously because whoever he may be dating was in a relationship with someone who was quite possibly a criminal. “Yes, that must be very uncomfortable for you. It’s quite enough for me to watch Garreth try to flirt with Mister Madeleine.”  
  
Fantine nodded solemnly. “Yeah. And Jean doesn’t do anything about it. He’s used to it by now… I mean, usually from unhappily married middle-aged women, but it’s the same deal. Jean’s kind to people and he’s attractive. Everyone falls in love with him and it’s a whole big competition that no one ever wins because Jean is either oblivious, or uninterested, I’m still not sure which. It’s agonizing,” Fantine lamented, rubbing her forehead.   
  
“Why, are you interested in him as well?” Javert asked.  
  
Fantine laughed. “No, I’m not. I would have died of a broken heart by now if I was.” She paused. “Are you?”  
  
Javert blushed. “I…”  
  
Fantine shook her head, smiling. “I knew it. That’s why you and Garreth are always fighting.”  
  
Javert closed his laptop. Work could wait; he had to defend his honour. “I don’t have feelings for Mister Madeleine! I argue with Garreth because he is only in this class because he finds Mister Madeleine attractive! He doesn’t respect Mister Madeleine; he doesn’t even pronounce his name correctly. He calls him ‘John’.”  
  
Fantine was still smirking. “Based on how much you grumble and groan when you get here in the mornings, you’re not here because of a love for yoga, either. As for the respect, I heard about how you pressured Jean into humiliating himself by failing to name most of the class. And you don’t address him correctly either; you call him ‘Mister Madeleine’. Do you have any other arguments?”  
  
Javert crossed his arms. This woman was good. “He’s annoying. He annoys you, you said it yourself.”  
  
“You’re not arguing with him because of me. You’re arguing with him because seeing him flirting with Jean annoys _you_.”  
  
“Yes! But that doesn’t prove I am interested in him! I simply cannot stand to see Mister Madeleine treated like that!”  
  
“Does everyone else in the class seem to like and respect Jean?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
“Does anyone else in the class argue with Garreth?”  
  
“Not that I know of…”  
  
Fantine raised an eyebrow. “You see what I’m getting at.”  
  
Javert frowned. “You’re wasted as a receptionist. You would make a very good lawyer.”  
  
Fantine laughed. “Well, thank you. So you admit you like him, then?”  
  
Javert’s frown deepened. “I will admit nothing.”  
  
“So there is something to admit.”  
  
“I don’t fancy Monsieur Madeleine.”  
  
“You keep using weird language. Tell me that you don’t find him hot.”  
  
“This is ridiculous,” Javert snapped.  
  
“Say it!”  
  
“I don’t find him hot!” he said. A lie. A lie, and it probably showed.   
  
Fantine got up from her desk and walked towards Javert.   
  
“What are you doing?” Javert asked.  
  
“We’re going on a little field trip,” Fantine said. “Follow me.”  
  
“I am staying put. I have work to do.”  
  
“You haven’t done anything.”  
  
“So I should start,” Javert forced out between clenched teeth.  
  
“It’ll only take a minute. And if you do this for me, I’ll never ever bug you about this ever again.”  
  
Javert sighed and put his laptop in the bag. “Fine. Deal.” He stood up. “Lead the way.”  
  
Fantine smiled. She began to walk down the hall, the one Javert hadn’t been down yet. He followed her, impatient and irritated, but curious. She walked to the end of the hall and opened the door. Javert followed. They were now in a small room that felt much warmer than the rest of the studio. There was another door, thick and wooden, with a small window. Javert could see inside; there were people in various different poses – advanced poses, from the looks of it – most wearing barely any clothing.   
  
“What–” Javert tried to start, only to be immediately shushed by Fantine.  
  
“You’ll see,” she told him. “Just keep looking through that window.”   
  
Javert raised an eyebrow, but continued to watch for whatever he was supposed to see. For now, all he was seeing was a lot of sweaty people.   
  
Then a man stepped into his view, walking slowly, looking at everyone carefully. Oh, the man was shirtless.  
  
_Oh_. It was Madeleine.   
  
Javert tried to keep his face neutral as he laid eyes on a very sweaty, very shirtless, very muscular, very, very, very sexy Madeleine. He probably failed. He could only see the man’s back, but it was enough to send him reeling.   
  
Fantine laughed. “Look directly at him and tell me you don’t find him attractive.”  
  
She was evil. Madeleine was indisputably as hot as the room he was in. “I–”   
  
Madeleine turned around.   
  
Javert noticed it all at once: Madeleine’s washboard abs, Madeleine’s unfairly pink nipples, the generous smattering of fine hair on his chest…  
  
The number “24601” tattooed over his bulging pecs.  
  
Javert went slack-jawed. “Oh my God…” he muttered. “He is… he is Jean Valjean. I knew it. I knew it all along. He is…” Consumed by at least seven different distinct emotions, Javert bolted out, grabbed his stuff, and ran to his car. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNN
> 
> Javert isn't leaving, just going to his car to scream a bit.
> 
> Also, I had to read up on hot yoga just to write THIS. I know nothing at all about yoga and it's difficult to write this but it's so much fun and aaagh
> 
> P.S. Make "Sorry Garth" a meme


	6. The Walls Have Smiles Too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I'm so tired right now that the last part of this chapter probably makes no sense. Neither does the title. I just... really wanted to post this...

 

Javert sat in his car, his forehead resting against the steering wheel.   
  
What the hell was going on?   
  
Javert analyzed what he was feeling, and managed to break it down:

  1. Pride - he'd been right all along, and Madeleine was in fact Valjean!
  2. Anger - How hadn't he figured it out earlier? 
  3. More anger - Valjean had lied and cheated his way to success!
  4. Humiliation - Fantine had seen his reaction to seeing Madeleine shirtless, and didn’t know that part of his reaction was due to him recognizing Madeleine as Valjean.
  5. More anger, due to that humiliation. 
  6. Sadness - This man whom he had grown to respect was only a criminal.
  7. Arousal - Madeleine… Valjean… Whoever he was, he was attractive, and Javert was hard.
  8. More humiliation, due to that arousal. 
  9. Confusion - What was he to do now?



His emotions were figured out, but he felt no better. He wanted to go home. Was there any real reason to stay for his lesson?   
  
Of course there was! He’d inform Madel–Valjean that his ruse was up, that his goat had been gotten, and that it was time for him to be returned behind bars, where he belonged.   
  
But how was he to do this while bearing an erection given to him by the same man he would be trying to arrest?   
  
He banged his head against the steering wheel several times and groaned loudly. This was inconvenient.    
  
Well, if there was anything that would kill his mood, it was work. He sat up, reclined his seat so he had room, and got out his laptop. Surely enough, almost immediately after starting to read an email from his boss, his arousal disappeared, soon followed by every other emotion he felt.   
  
He worked for quite a while. Eventually, he checked the time out of curiosity. 10:32. 10:32… 10:32! He was late for his lesson!    
  
Or rather, for his taking down of the convict Jean Valjean.   
  
Javert hurried to put away his laptop. He grabbed his yoga mat, left his coat in the car, and rushed back into the studio. He quickly pulled off his boots and socks again, then he made his way down the hallway, pointedly not looking at Fantine. He arrived at the second door, the one that wasn’t an office or a bathroom, took a deep breath, and knocked.    
  
“Come in,” said Madeleine from inside.    
  
Javert opened the door. The room was quite small; the size of an office, perhaps. There was a window on the side across from him, and a mirror on the left side of the room. On the right side of the room, there was an exercise ball and various other pieces of equipment.    
  
And near the center of the room, Madeleine was sitting – if you could call it sitting; he was doing some sort of split – with a towel around his shoulders, leaning with his elbows on the ground, a notebook open in front of him. He was looking up at Javert with a smile, and promptly sat up straight.    
  
“I’m sorry I’m late,” Javert said, “I was doing some work and I lost track of time,” Javert said. Why was he apologizing to a convict?   
  
Ma–  _ Valjean _ waved the apology away. “It’s alright. I should be the one apologizing; I’m still a mess from hot yoga,” he said, wiping his brow with the towel. Ah, yes. The hot yoga. Javert had tried so hard to forget how Madeleine looked in that steamy room…   
  
“It doesn’t matter,” Javert said, too firmly.     
  
The man noticed his strange tone, peering up at Javert from under his towel.   
  
“I know who you are,” Javert said.   
  
Valjean put the towel down. “Who am I, then?”   
  
“You’re Jean Valjean.”   
  
Javert was prepared for many different reactions from Valjean; denial, feigned confusion, violence…   
  
But he wasn’t prepared for Valjean to smile at him, eyes bright, without a moment’s hesitation. “I was wondering when you’d figure it out. You had a feeling all along, didn’t you?”   
  
Javert was puzzled, but he didn’t let it show. He nodded. “As soon as I saw a picture of you, I recognized you. I just needed to collect evidence so that I could be certain.”   
  
“So? What was your final clue?”   
  
“The number on your chest. 24601.”   
  
“Ah,” Valjean said, nodding as he touched a hand to his chest, where the offending numbers lay, hidden under his bright orange t-shirt. Orange, like the prison jumpsuit Valjean wore in Toulon. “So you were spying on the hot yoga class, then?”   
  
Javert didn’t answer.    
  
“Normally, I’d have a serious chat with anyone who I found out was spying on a class. However, you were gathering evidence, not gawking at ladies in sports bras, so it’s different,” Valjean said, smirking.   
  
Oh, was he  _ ever _ not gawking at ladies.    
  
No matter. It wasn’t time to think about that anymore. “Well, 24601. I am with the police now, so I have the authority to arrest you.”   
  
Valjean looked confused. “Arrest me? For what?”   
  
“Breaking parole.”   
  
The man laughed. “Oh, Javert… I already served time for that. You see, after I was released on parole, I ran away and ended up in Paris, where I met a great man: Monseigneur Myriel. On top of being a bishop, he was a master yogi. I broke into his cathedral one cold night. He found me, and, instead of kicking me to the curb, he offered me food and shelter if I did some odd jobs for him, and if he could teach me his art. I quickly came to love yoga; it helped to relax and soothe me of my anger during such a tough time. After a year of studying with him, I got a job as a yoga teacher at a local gym. I loved teaching so much that I began to dream of opening my own studio. Monseigneur Myriel made me a deal; if I returned to prison – in Paris, that is–, he would help pay for me to start my own yoga school here in America. I was already a much different man than the beast you knew in Toulon; I took him up on his deal, and managed to be released early due to good behaviour. I moved to America and taught in other gyms until this academy was built. I changed my name and had my tattoos removed… Well, except my prison number. I felt that removing that would be like pretending it never happened. And I don’t; I’m not exactly completely open about my past, but I don’t lie, either. When someone asks me what my tattoo means, I tell them that it’s a number that has a lot of meaning to me. If they ask what meaning, I tell them my story. I’m not proud of my past, but it’s the truth of who I am.”    
  
Javert blinked. “So… You live by the law now.”   
  
Valjean nodded. “I do.”   
  
Javert didn’t know what to say. Jean Valjean had become an honest man. The brute who had no respect for authority, who snarled at Javert without cease, had become this kind, gentle, peaceful man whose smile could charm even Javert. This was… Strange. In a good way.   
  
Valjean stood, tossing his towel to the back of the room. “Well, I’m assuming since your investigation is done, you won’t be staying.”   
  
“What makes you think that?”   
  
“You don’t seem the most interested in yoga. Especially not meditation,” Valjean said, smiling… though there was a shadow of sadness in that smile. “You came here just to figure me out… right?”   
  
“Well, yes.”   
  
“And you’ve done that. You have the knowledge that you were right all along, but that an escaped convict is not masquerading as a yoga teacher, terrorizing New York City. That’s the best possible outcome. So you’ve no reason to continue the classes, am I correct?”   
  
Javert frowned. Valjean was right; he had done what he had come to do.    
  
But what would his doctor say?   
  
And the money! He still had seven whole classes left to go. He had decided after the first class to get every penny’s worth.    
  
“You are not correct, Valjean. My doctor recommended I do yoga for stress relief and to get in shape. Perhaps now with no threat of an escaped convict on the loose, I can actually focus on doing yoga.”   
  
Valjean laughed; for the first time since that first lesson, it was that real laugh. The sound brought a flush to Javert’s cheeks and he knew not why.   
  
“Javert, though I may have changed a lot since we last met, you may have changed just as much,” Valjean said.   
  
“Men like me don’t change.”   
  
“You would have never done this back then. Yoga, taking instruction from an ex-convict... any of it.”   
  
Javert frowned. “How do you know?”   
  
Valjean shook his head, smiling. “Never mind, Javert. Never mind.” He looked at his watch. “Well, if we’re going to get anything done, we ought to start now. We’ve already wasted seven minutes of your half-hour session!” Valjean sat down, and told Javert to do the same.    
  
Still a little shell-shocked, Javert obeyed.    
  
“Now,” Valjean said, stopping to take a sip from his frankly massive water bottle, “I like to start these sessions with a little interview; some background information, what you think your strengths and weaknesses are in yoga, what areas you want to work on… things like that. Alright?”   
  
Javert nodded.    
  
“Wonderful.” Valjean flipped to the first blank page in his notebook; at the top of this page, ‘Javert’ was written very carefully. “Okay, Javert; my first question is, unfortunately: how old are you?”   
  
Javert sighed. “Fourty-one,” he grumbled.    
  
Valjean wrote this down. “I am twelve years older than you,” he said.    
  
Javert half wanted to say something about Valjean looking better than most men twelve years  _ younger _ than himself, but he did not.   
  
“And you said you were with the police?”   
  
“Yes. I am an Inspector, to be precise.”   
  
“A noble employment,” Valjean remarked. “A stressful one, too. Does the stress get to you? Do you find yourself getting sad or angry easily?”   
  
“No.”   
  
Valjean was looking at him funny. He sighed. “I get angry often,” he admitted.   
  
“No shame in that,” Valjean said. “Are you generally healthy? Any medical issues I should know about?”   
  
“No issues.”   
  
“Wonderful. Is there anywhere in particular that feels sore? Back, neck, knees…”   
  
“Umm… I feel sore all over.”   
  
Valjean nodded with a little smile, scribbling something down. “Hopefully I can help you with that. Now, thinking back to our last three classes, what are your greatest strengths in yoga?”   
  
Javert laughed.   
  
“What?”   
  
“You’ve seen me in your class. I’m hopeless.”   
  
“Don’t say that! You know what I think your biggest strength in the class is, Javert?”   
  
“If you say perseverance, I’m leaving right now.”   
  
Valjean laughed again. “I wasn’t going to say that. Although you do persevere, I was going to say that you are very focused. You never seem to zone out; you’re always on task, watching me and not judging others in the class.”   
  
“It’s because I was judging you.”   
  
“But you remained focused. That’s a good thing.”   
  
“Fine. If you want to assign virtues to me, that one works just fine.”   
  
Valjean ignored this comment. “Last question: what are the areas you feel need the most work?”   
  
“That one’s hard to answer, too. I’m so bad at all of it.”   
  
“Stop putting yourself down. It’s not helpful for either of us. Tell me one or two things that you’d like to get better at, please.”   
  
Javert sighed. “Fine. I’d like to… I’d like to have better balance, and… Well, stop being sore… Or get better at handling the pain?”   
  
Valjean nodded and wrote something down. “Okay, that’s enough to start with, thank you. Yes, I did notice today that you were having difficulty balancing on one foot… We can start working on balance today, and next week we can have a more in-depth chat about what’s sore and what we can do about it. Sound good?”   
  
Javert nodded. “Sure.”   
  
Valjean closed his notebook, smiling. “Alright. Let’s stand up and we’ll revisit what we did earlier this morning.” Valjean stood and put his notebook and water to the side. Javert got up as well.   
  
“Show me your tree pose,” Valjean said, lifting his foot to his right thigh and pressing his hands together in front of his heart. Javert remembered this and tried not to groan too loudly. He attempted to do the same, but as soon as his leg was off the ground, he was wobbling. He scowled, putting his foot back down.   
  
“Alright, good try. But remember what I said about focusing on an unmoving point?”   
  
Valjean turned to the mirror, and Javert did the same.    
  
“You see that little yellow smiley face on the back wall?” the teacher said.   
  
“Yes…”   
  
“I put that there for this exact purpose. I want you to stare at that smiley face in the mirror while you get into the pose. Okay? Try it.”   
  
Javert glared at the smiley face as if it had done him wrong, and he slowly lifted his foot. He was doing alright… but then he tipped to the side and stumbled.    
  
“Better!” Valjean encouraged. “Here,” he said, “I’ll help you.” He stood behind Javert and placed his hands lightly on the inspector’s waist. Javert watched this in the mirror with disbelief.    
  
“Is that okay? Sorry, I should have asked before I touched you,” Valjean said, pulling his hands back.   
  
“No, it’s fine,” Javert said, as nonchalantly as he could.    
  
“Sure?”   
  
“Yes.”   
  
And it was that easy to have Valjean’s hands resting on his waist. “Try again,” the older man said, softer, meeting Javert’s eyes in the mirror. Javert took a breath and lifted his foot.    
  
“Look at the smiley face!”   
  
Javert fixated on the thing again.   
  
“Stare at it and be aware of my hands keeping you steady.”   
  
He was certainly aware of Valjean’s hands. He wobbled a little but Valjean wouldn’t let him fall. He held his breath as he tried to get his foot into place.   
  
“Remember to breathe,” Valjean said.    
  
Javert remembered. His foot touched his thigh. It didn’t go all the way up like it was supposed to, but it was something. His eyes widened in happy surprise and he met Valjean’s gaze in the mirror. Valjean was smiling. “You’re doing great! Now get your hands up,” he said.    
  
Javert brought his hands in front of his chest, which caused him to lose his balance. He fell back. Luckily, Valjean was right there, and he was strong enough to catch him, so Javert didn’t fall very far; he only fell a few inches until he collided with Valjean’s firm chest.    
  
“Careful,” Valjean said, voice strangely low, too close to Javert’s ear. He helped Javert to right himself. Javert frowned at his failure.   
  
“Why did I fall?”   
  
“Were you looking at the smiley face?” Valjean asked, eyebrow raised.   
  
“No,” grumbled Javert.   
  
“You have to keep looking at it. It’s crucial until you find your balance. Try again.”   
  
Javert nodded. He felt Valjean’s hands settle on his waist again. He took a deep breath and lifted his foot towards his thigh, keeping his eyes fixed on the smiley face.   
  
“Yes, Javert, that’s it,” Valjean encouraged, tightening his grip on the inspector. Javert wasn’t sure whether he wanted Valjean to let go or to hold him tighter.    
  
Once his foot was settled, Javert lifted his hands and pressed them together in front of his chest as if in prayer. He never once took his eyes off that smiley face.   
  
“Beautiful. Yes!” Valjean said. Javert had never enjoyed praise so much in his life.    
  
“Don’t move a muscle. Stare at the smiley face,” Valjean told him, and loosened his grip a little. Then a little more. Then his hands were barely touching Javert, and then they weren’t at all.    
  
“Javert! You’re doing it! Look at you!”   
  
Javert felt incredible. He wasn’t wobbling or falling at all! “May I look away from that face now?” he asked.   
  
“Yes. You might fall, but at least you’ll get a glimpse of what I’m seeing before you do.”   
  
Javert cautiously looked down at himself. He was doing it. He was doing the tree pose; not nearly as well as Valjean did it, but he was doing it, all by himself. He began to lose his balance a moment later, and had to put his other foot on the ground. Valjean smiled at him.   
  
“Wonderful job, Javert. See? You’re not hopeless after all!”   
  
Javert laughed. “I suppose not... not completely, anyway.”    
  
“Not at all,” Valjean said, a strangely wistful look in his eye, “Not hopeless at all.”   
  
Javert smiled back a little at the older man, and his heart ached. For what, he did not know, but it ached. It was a warm feeling, a comfort as well as a pain; joy and sorrow marbled together. And why? Why did he suddenly feel this? What was it? Was he going into cardiac arrest?   
  
“Well, Javert, I’m sorry to say, but your lesson time is up,” Valjean said. He sounded disappointed, or perhaps he was simply faking it.   
  
“Okay.”   
  
“Excellent work today, in class and just now. I’m very proud of you.”   
  
Javert’s heart was still doing strange things. Perhaps he had done too much yoga, too soon? “Thank you,” he said.   
  
“And, Javert…” Madeleine paused, and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m glad you’re staying with me. In the class. I would’ve missed you.”   
  
The inspector nodded. “My pleasure.”    
  
“But, can I ask something of you? Can you please not tell anyone about, you know… about Jean Valjean. And can you continue to address me as Mister Madeleine? Or, even better, Jean.”   
  
Javert nodded. This was fair enough. “I will do so, Jean.”   
  
The name felt good to him now. It felt special, like it had taken on a new meaning.    
  
Valjean smiled. “Thank you, Javert.” Valjean bent over and picked up Javert’s yoga mat, which had gone unused in this lesson. “I look forward to seeing you again next week.”   
  
Javert took the mat from Valjean. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing you as well.”   
  
Valjean opened the door, his smile turned wistful again. “See you then, Javert.”   
  
Javert nodded. “See you, Jean.”   
  
Javert was happy as he left the academy, though his heart was still aching in his chest. The further away he drove, the worse it seemed to hurt. But the warmth had spread from his heart and kept him cozy all the way home, so he couldn’t complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm screaming at all the mentions of Javert falling/Valjean stopping Javert from falling. Why did I do that?
> 
> *sings entirety of "Javert, t'es amoureux" by Jean Vallée*


	7. With Pirate Hair Comes the Booty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, SORRY for this chapter's title. I just couldn't help it, honestly.
> 
> Ew, March break is over. Ew, I'm back at school and can't just write all day. But look at me, posting a chapter today anyway!
> 
> Mild sexual content in this chapter, but nothing explicit.

“Inhale, lunge…”   
  
It was nearing the end of the hourlong class, and they had already been through three rounds of this thing. Javert’s lunge was beginning to become unstable. Hadn’t the sun been saluted enough?    
  
“Exhale, plank…”   
  
Javert dropped himself onto his shaky arms, watching as Valjean did the same with easy elegance. He frowned at those biceps.    
  
“Inhale, gather strength, and exhale into cobra…”   
  
Javert let his hips fall onto the ground as he pushed his breath out. His frown deepened as he watched Valjean swoop like a soaring bird into the cobra pose. What a show-off.   
  
“Exhale, downward dog…”   
  
Javert could barely force his body into the position. He felt his hair falling into his face. Ugh.   
  
“Inhale, lunge…”   
  
Javert’s vision was obscured by a cascade of dark brown. What had become of the only hair tie he currently owned?   
  
“Exhale, forward fold…”   
  
The was too hard. Javert fell onto his knees before he actually managed to stand up and flop over. Before his hair obscured his vision, he had seen Valjean contort himself seamlessly into this pose. He knew not how.   
  
“Inhale and reach up…”   
  
Javert stood up with great difficulty and reached his arms back.   
  
“And exhale back into mountain,” finished Valjean.   
  
Javert hoped this was truly the last time around as he pressed his hands back in front of his heart.    
  
“... And relax. Good job, everyone!”   
  
A collective sigh was heard as everyone let their hands drop to their sides.   
  
“I know this was a pretty strenuous class, so we’ll do our final relaxation on our back in corpse pose today. Alright, lay down.”   
  
Javert was happy to hear this. He wasted no time in laying down on his back.   
  
For the first time in this class, Javert closed his eyes as he lay there. Even at the beginning of the class, he hadn’t felt like it. Valjean didn’t even patrol the lines of yoga mats anymore, so it wasn’t that Javert felt like he was being scrutinised, he just… didn’t want to close his eyes.   
  
Now, he was tired enough – or something – to just allow his eyes to close and his inhibitions to disappear as he followed Valjean’s deep, calm voice in inhalation and exhalation.   
  
After a few minutes, Valjean ended the class, telling everyone to sit up.   
  
“Good work today, everyone! I know I worked you all really hard today,” Valjean said, looking around the class. “Unfortunately, next week will be just as difficult; we’re going to be working on strength training.”   
  
A collective groan was heard, and Valjean laughed. “I know, I’m sorry. But it will do you good, I–” Javert was pushing his long hair out of his face, annoyed at it, and Valjean locked eyes with him. Valjean stared at him for a brief moment, before blushing and looking away. He cleared his throat. “I promise. Well, rest up, and I’ll see you all next week!”   
  
Javert got off his mat, but instead of commencing his usual struggle to roll it up, Javert searched around for his missing hair tie. What a bother it was to lose it. He didn’t want to have to take time out of his day to go buy another one. Valjean must have noticed his search because the man appeared next to him.    
  
“What are you looking for, Javert?” he asked.   
  
“I seem to have lost my hair tie,” he grumbled.   
  
“Ah,” Valjean said, squatting down beside Javert. “I did notice that your mane was flowing a little more freely than usual.”   
  
Javert frowned further as he found what he was looking for. “It broke,” he said, picking it up.   
  
“Well, that’s unfortunate. It’s alright, though; I have extras in my office for this exact purpose.” Valjean had already begun to roll up Javert’s mat, as if it was part of his job now.    
  
“Hmm. And until then, I’ll be an unruly caveman,” Javert complained.    
  
“Nonsense! You have beautiful hair!” Valjean said, not without blushing again.   
  
Javert raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Valjean had already finished rolling up the mat and putting it away, so he handed it to Javert. “See you later, Javert,” he said with an awkward smile as he scurried away.

Javert watched, amused. This was very unlike Valjean. It was funny that the man was acting so flustered – it was endearing, even. Javert shoved his broken hair elastic into his pocket and got up, carrying his yoga mat as he left the studio. When he opened the door, Valjean was already gone to his next class, and so the main room wasn't as crowded as it was at this time last week.

Garreth was hanging around, an angered frown on his face. 

Javert ignored this. 

“Javert! What have you done to Jean?” he asked accusatorily.

Javert shrugged comically.

“I’m serious!” he said, “Jean’s changed! He just rushed out of there, bright red!” He paused. “It’s cause you ‘lost your hair tie’, right? Jean’s probably scared of your gross pirate hair!”

Javert’s jaw clenched. He quite liked his hair and took great pains to wash it every day so that was not gross.

“I’ve had about enough of you! You tell me that I'm disrespectful of Jean, but then you go and make him uncomfortable by hitting on him subtly like this! You act like you're better than me, but really, you're worse, because you're lying about it! You're a mean, nasty old man, and you have no right to even occupy the same room as someone like Jean!”

Javert felt rage rising within him at this. God knows how he would’ve reacted had Fantine not stepped in at that moment.    
  
“Garreth, please leave Inspector Javert alone,” she said firmly.   
  
“ _ Me _ ? Leave  _ him _ alone? He started it!” the young man complained.   
  
“You just directly insulted him, and he didn’t say a single word. If you don’t want me to tell Jean that you’re verbally abusing other students, I suggest you leave as soon as possible.”   
  
Garreth pouted. “Why is everyone on Javert’s side?!” he exclaimed before stomping out of the studio.    
  
Javert looked to Fantine. “Thank you,” he said; a sentiment he didn’t often express.   
  
She smirked. “No problem. I owe you one, after last week…”   
  
Javert frowned, feeling residual embarrassment rekindle itself within him. “About that… My reaction… wasn’t due to Val– to Madeleine’s appearance,” he said.  “Seeing his chest tattoo, it confirmed a suspicion I had about his past.”   
  
“So you knew about where he came from? That he was… You know...”   
  
“Yes,” Javert said, sparing Fantine from saying the words out loud. “I knew him when he was much younger, actually.”   
  
“Oh…” Fantine looked down. “I understand now. You were so interested in Madeleine because you thought you knew him from before, not because you had feelings for him. I’m… I’m sorry for misunderstanding you. That makes what I did even worse.”   
  
Javert shook his head. “It was certainly… uncomfortable, but if I had not seen him without a shirt, I would never have known that he was indeed who I thought he was. In a way, I should thank you for that.”   
  
Fantine nodded. “I… guess you’re right. I’m still sorry, though.”   
  
“I hold no grudge against you,” Javert said.   
  
Fantine looked back up. “So what happened? Did you confront him?”   
  
“Yes. In my lesson, I told him that I knew who he was, and that I had intentions to arrest him, since the last time I had heard of him, he had broken parole. Then he explained that he went back to prison, and is now a free man, living honestly and by the law.”   
  
Fantine nodded, then looked confused. “Wait… If you thought he was still at large, why did you care if Garreth disrespected him?”   
  
“I wasn’t  _ sure _ he was who I thought he was until I saw his tattoo,” Javert explained.    
  
“But you  _ thought _ he was. You thought that enough to come here to investigate…”   
  
“Are you saying that the only reason I signed up for classes here was to see if Mister Madeleine was a criminal?”   
  
“Again, you don’t seem to love yoga.”   
  
Javert looked away. “You promised that if I agreed to your little deal that you wouldn’t bother me about this anymore,” he said firmly.   
  
Fantine sighed. “That’s true, I did. But… one more thing, Javert…”   
  
“No!” Javert went to get his coat.   
  
“Not about you, about–”   
  
“–I said no!”   
  
“–Jean likes you.”   
  
Javert froze. “He… what?”   
  
“Well, maybe not  _ romantically,  _ but he certainly likes you more that the average student. And you know how much he cares about his students.”   
  
“He doesn’t even remember their names,” Javert scoffed.   
  
“I mean that he really values everyone individually and… You know how saintly he is. But he cares about you… more, haven’t you noticed?”   
  
Javert barked a laugh. “He avoided me for a whole class.”   
  
“That’s because you were trying to arrest him. But in general… especially after last week… Okay, I know you want evidence. This past week, he talked about you a lot. He mentioned how you seem scary on the outside, but you’re really a nice man, and that he, and I quote, ‘wants to find your soft side.’ And he says that you have such a hilarious, wry sense of humour that catches him off guard and always makes him laugh. And he says he looks forward to Saturdays the most because he loves working with you and seeing how you improve every week.”

Javert had turned back around to face Fantine during this speech, a faint blush dusting his cheeks– thankfully hidden by his thick sideburns. “Is that so? I… I see.”

Fantine smiled. “Just thought I would let you know.”

Javert nodded. He put his coat, socks and boots on and went to leave. “Thank you for telling me,” he said to Fantine before leaving the studio and walking to his car. 

He sat in the driver’s seat, hunched over the steering wheel, mulling this over. He had been so busy pondering what  _ he _ thought of Madeleine, and subsequently of Valjean, that he had barely even considered what the man thought of him.

One one hand, Garreth could be right. He was, after all, correct that Valjean disliked his behaviour towards the young man. Perhaps Garreth was more perceptive than he was intelligent, and Valjean did in fact dislike him. He especially couldn't see Valjean finding him physically attractive. As much time as Javert spent making himself look impeccable, it was the simple truth that he was unattractive. His jaw was too strong and his nose too large; his skin was too dark for his bright blue eyes; he was too skinny for a man of his height, and the only parts of his body that ever filled out his clothes were his broad shoulders and his freakishly large rear end. He blamed his prostitute mother on the last item on the list. He’d seemed to have inherited some of the same curves that attracted her clients.

As much as he hated this part of his anatomy, he wished he’d taken after her in other ways. He remembered that she was beautiful: she had soft brown eyes – like Valjean’s – and long, dark brown hair, tanned skin, a delicate nose and a soft jawline. When she smiled, it was warm and sweet, unlike Javert’s horrid sneer.

His father must have been absolutely hideous for him to turn out this ugly.

He met his own piercing blue eyes in the rear view mirror. He was hideous, he knew it. The only part of him he took any pride in at all was his hair.

What if Garreth was right, and even his hair was unattractive? 

Valjean  _ had _ said it was beautiful. What if that was how he truly felt? 

What if he  _ did  _ like Javert? 

Javert didn't see Fantine making up complete anecdotes from Valjean about him. They had to be true. And she knew Valjean better than he did – she knew the new Valjean, rather – so if she said this was unusual for him, that was probably the case.    
  
Javert scoffed. What if Valjean liked him in a romantic way? The thought made him strangely giddy. It would be the first time anyone had ever been interested in him, he was sure. And for someone like  _ Valjean _ to like him – someone so attractive and kind and perfect that everyone wanted him – that seemed impossible.   
  
But apparently not. Apparently, it was entirely possible. Javert supposed Valjean wouldn’t help just  _ anyone _ roll up their yoga mat after class, or call just  _ anyone’s  _ hair beautiful. And Valjean  _ had  _ acted quite flustered around him today…   
  
He laughed again. It wasn’t out of the question that Valjean was interested in him. That was a strange thought, but one that he wasn’t appalled by.   
  
In Toulon, he would’ve been. Despite his sexual attraction to Valjean, knowing that the man had feelings for him would’ve made him want to vomit. But now… Things had changed. Valjean was a free man.   
  
Perhaps Javert had changed, too.   
  
In fact, here he was, contemplating whether a boy liked him or not. Here he was thinking about his appearance.   
  
What a fool he was being!   
  
None of this mattered! He had come to terms with the fact that Valjean aroused him, but arousal did not account for him behaving like a middle schooler.    
  
Perhaps it did, he thought. Perhaps that was what he felt in his heart the other week – not that that feeling had ever left, he realized – and what had made him sad when he believed he would lose “Madeleine”. Maybe this was some new form of lust.   
  
That made sense. Valjean made him feel and act differently than he usually would, and Valjean aroused him. The connection was simple. He would have to deal with this when he got home.    
  
This decision made, he figured he’d get some work done. He pulled out his laptop.   
  
Javert managed not to lose track of time that day; he made it back into the studio at 10:25. Fantine looked up from whatever she was doing at the desk, and smiled at him.   
  
“Jean,’s ready for you,” she said, “you can go in early, if you want.”   
  
Javert nodded. “Alright. Thank you.”   
  
He knocked on the door to the small room, waited for Valjean’s call to come in, and did so.    
  
Valjean was sitting in the middle of the floor again, and had a towel wrapped around his shoulders… Javert recalled Valjean shirtless doing hot yoga, and this sent ripples of arousal through his abdomen. He cleared his throat and greeted the other man.   
  
“Right, Javert– I found my stash of hair elastics.” He held out a light blue elastic to Javert. “I chose this colour because it, uh, it matches your eyes,” Valjean smiled, but quickly blushed bright. Javert smirked as he took the elastic from Valjean.    
  
“Thank you. I appreciate your contribution to keeping me decent,” he said, putting his hair back in its usual low ponytail.   
  
“It’s more practicality. Yoga and long hair, well… You’ve experienced it enough already,” Valjean said, paying a little too much attention to Javert’s hands and his hair. Valjean cleared his throat. “Right, okay! Now that that’s out of the way, sit down again; we’ll have that chat I talked about last week.”    
  
Javert sat in front of Valjean, leaving noticeably less space between them than last time. Valjean didn’t move.   
  
“So,” Valjean said, fiddling with his pencil, “you mentioned last week that you’re sore all over. Since then, have you identified anywhere that hurts the most?”   
  
Javert frowned in thought. “Maybe… My knees? And my hips.”   
  
“Knees and hips, okay…” Valjean wrote this down. “Which poses that we do hurt the most for you?”   
  
“They all do.”   
  
“Even corpse pose?”   
  
“Alright, no. That one and child’s pose are fine. And mountain pose… But anything that involves stretching hurts.”   
  
Valjean laughed. “Okay. Well, we can go through some stretches together and we’ll see. Get up. And get your mat out, I think.”   
  
Javert did so; Valjean took the towel off of his shoulders and put the notebook aside. Valjean took a swig of water before he knelt on his mat, facing Javert. “Okay; get down on one knee like this–” Valjean did so – “And really lean forward into the stretch, so that you’re in a nice, low lunge. Okay?”   
  
Javert faced Valjean and copied the man’s movements, albeit with much more difficulty. He winced at the stretch in his legs. Valjean stood up and stood beside Javert, looking in the mirror.    
  
“That hurts?”   
  
Javert nodded.   
  
“Everywhere?”   
  
Another nod.    
  
“Okay. Come out of it, and do the same on your other leg.”    
  
Javert landed hard on his knee, the soreness of his limbs coming back from saluting the sun earlier that morning.    
  
“Whoa, gentle!” Valjean said. “Don’t be so hard on your knees.”   
  
Javert switched legs and leaned forward. “My legs are too weak to do this properly, it seems,” Javert said, grimacing through the pain.    
  
“Well then use your hands to lower yourself. No need to be reckless. Yeah, I can tell that hurts. Get down – gently.”   
  
Javert looked at Valjean, put his hands on the floor, and lowered himself to kneeling.    
  
“Better,” said Valjean. He picked up his notebook and scribbled something else in it. “Okay, now sit down with your legs straight in front of you.”   
  
Javert sat clumsily, his legs in front of him, but bent.    
  
“...Alright. Keeping your legs in place and your back straight, twist over as much as possible towards the mirror. I’ll keep a hand on your upper back to help you.” Valjean knelt down behind him and placed his open hand between Javert’s shoulder blades. Javert was glad that Valjean sneaked his hand between his ponytail and his back. “Okay, go.”   
  
Javert was able to twist quite far; he looked at himself in the mirror, and at Valjean watching him intently.   
  
“Very good, Javert. I’m assuming that’s not too painful?”   
  
“It’s fine.”   
  
“Wonderful. Other side, then.”   
  
Javert twisted to the other side, though not looking in the mirror, still aware of Valjean’s eyes on him and Valjean’s warm hand resting on his back.    
  
“Nice! That’s quite good. You can relax, now.” Valjean got up to write something down again. “Yes,” he said, “You’ve always had very good posture. That is part of why you can do that quite well, and why your back isn’t the most painful.”   
  


Javert wasn't sure if he should thank Valjean, so he just nodded.The other man wasn't even facing him.

  
“Okay,” said Valjean, turning back to Javert with a smile. “Stand up and try to touch your toes.”

Javert groaned loudly.

“Don't moan and groan at me, Javert. Come on, get up!”

Javert glared at Valjean, who laughed and reached a hand towards Javert. “Fine, you old geezer. I’ll help you up.”

“I’m a decade younger than you,” he pointed out as he took Valjean’s hands. Valjean swiftly pulled him to his feet, laying a hand on the small of Javert’s back that the inspector was sure wasn't necessary. 

Valjean smiled. “But you're the one who hurts all over,” he said, putting on a crotchety old man voice.

Javert rolled his eyes. “Just let me get on with it.”

Valjean let him go and stepped back – not without laughing and rubbing Javert’s back.   
  
Javert flopped over pitifully, still unable to reach far below his knees.    
  
“That’s it?!”   
  
“You see me try every week,” Javert snapped, “You know this is as far as I can reach!”    
  
“I know, but it still astounds me. Can you not go any further?” Valjean asked, folding himself over until he grabbed the backs of his ankles. He looked up at Javert with wide eyes.    
  
Javert sneered. “You showing off won’t make me any bendier.” His fingers dangled uselessly in mid-air.    
  
Valjean sighed and straightened. “Fine. We’ll work on that for sure.” He went to write a note about Javert’s inability to come close to touching his toes before he turned back around. “Okay, sit back down.”   
  
Javert slumped back onto his yoga mat with a little grunt, at which Valjean smirked, but said nothing. Valjean took a seat on his own mat, facing the mirror.    
  
“Sit with your thighs apart and your feet together like so, hold your feet, and lean down as far as you can.” Valjean demonstrated. As far as he could go meant pressing his nose to his feet, but when Javert tried, his forehead barely touched his feet, and his thighs burned.    
  
“Are you serious, Javert?” Valjean asked.    
  
“Yes, I unfortunately cannot smell my own feet as easily as you can,” Javert said defensively.   
  
His instructor laughed. “Okay, okay. Sit up. Last thing; I just want to see how far you can comfortably do the side splits. Or, rather, just spread your legs.” Valjean said this and blushed a little. “Oh, that sounded inappropriate, I’m sorry. You know what I mean.”   
  
Javert smirked and opened his legs as wide as they would go, which wasn’t very far at all, but quite wide enough for what Valjean wasn’t suggesting. He looked Valjean dead in the eye and said, in his most sultry voice, “Are my legs spread enough for you, Jean Valjean?”   
  
The man’s blush darkened quite a bit. “Javert…”   
  
The inspector was amused at Valjean’s reaction. “I’m joking with you.”   
  
“I know, I know,” he said, smiling though he was still blushing. “But I’m afraid your leg-spreading is... quite unimpressive,” Valjean said.   
  
Javert frowned and returned to a normal sitting position. “Well, I’m sorry! How far can  _ you  _ spread your legs?”    
  
“You already said that me showing off will not make you any bendier,” Valjean pointed out.    
  
“I want to see what you count as impressive,” Javert said.    
  
He, of course, already knew how far Valjean could spread his legs. He just wanted to see it in person.   
  
Valjean sighed. “Fine, if you insist.”   
  
Valjean easily let his legs slide open until they were practically making a 180º angle. Javert checked out Valjean’s generous endowment as subtly as he could manage, but his own cock jumped in his shorts at the sight. Exactly as it was in that video. And did he ever want to touch. He couldn’t help but lick his lips.   
  
“Now, that  _ is _ impressive.”   
  
He couldn’t miss how Valjean blushed at the comment and closed his legs. Maybe he knew Javert wasn’t necessarily talking about his flexibility.


	8. Falling Into the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter. Basically chapter 3 again.
> 
> Warning: More sexually explicit content! Now with the f word! Be prepared, or skip it. 
> 
> If you're reading, activatethis, thank you SO MUCH for the art!!!! I'm still screaming about it and I've shown it to all my friends, even though none of them are reading this or know what's going on. It is so amazing and THANKS

Javert wasted no time when he got home; he went straight to his bedroom.    
  
He had decided earlier that whatever he was feeling was just some extreme form of lust – well, he knew how to deal with that.   
  
Ever since he’d laid eyes again on the bulge in Valjean’s shorts, Javert’s body was practically vibrating with need, so it was no surprise that he was already hard by the time he was laying on his bed, his cock in hand.    
  
He stroked, and he thought of Jean Valjean.   
  
It was bright; the midday sun streamed into his bedroom through his window. Thus, it was harder to let his imagination run wild when he could see clearly that he was here alone. He managed it nonetheless. And Javert had to admit that it added a new level of excitement to this, to be doing such lewd things in broad daylight…    
  
Javert’s mind was a blur of images of Jean Valjean, of his face, of the blush that tinted his cheeks at the least provocation. Of his bare chest, its generous sprinkle of hair, the tattoo that stood out, stark black against pale skin. Javert imagined tracing Valjean’s beautifully defined abs, nipping at Valjean’s collarbone. Perhaps he would roll those pink nipples between a thumb and forefinger, and perhaps this would cause Valjean to gasp and blush.    
  
Javert recalled how often today the older man’s hands were on his body in innocent, helping touches. But now his hands stayed longer, more sure that the touch was welcome. Valjean seemed to like touching him, like holding him. Javert imagined Valjean in bed with him now, hands sliding over Javert’s body, lingering at the small of his back, on his chest…   
  
Oh, Valjean’s fingers in his  _ hair… _ The hair that Valjean thought was beautiful. Had said was beautiful.   
  
Javert pulled the hair tie out of his hair – the blue one that Valjean had given to him – and Javert shook his head, letting his hair fly wild. He imagined Valjean’s hands buried in his hair, pulling…   
  
Javert stopped touching himself for a moment. He slipped the hair elastic around his right wrist and watched closely as he stroked his own cock, the elastic like a collar tethering him to Valjean. He moaned, his head tipping back. He wasn’t sure what he was imagining now; his mind was a mess. But every part of that mess was Valjean. It was all Valjean.    
  
Javert  _ wanted _ – he wanted Valjean; he desired him with such intensity that it shocked him to the core. He moaned again, frantically. God, he wanted,  _ how  _ he  _ wanted… _

“Jean…” Javert panted, simply testing out the name. It was magical, igniting his body in flame. He tugged at himself faster, more ruthlessly. His legs spread further. 

“Jean! Oh, Jean! Oh  _ God,  _ Jean, Jean!” he repeated the name over and over, never growing tired of how it felt on his lips, how that common name felt so unique to him.

“Oh,  _ Please,  _ Jean _ …  _ Fuck me,  _ fuck me,  _ Jean _ , please!”  _ Javert hadn't intended for such words to leave his mouth, and especially not for them to be so loud. But they came anyway, and he enjoyed saying them, God help him. He rutted into his hand, a guttural growl erupting from his throat as he rapidly neared his climax.

“God, Jean! Fuck, oh God, take me! Fuck me, Jean! Fuck, fuck, fuck… Oh,  _ Jean _ –” Javert climaxed with a shout, bliss temporarily taking away his ability to speak. 

As soon as he had done this, he continued to stroke himself very slowly, panting and gasping where he lay. Javert muttered Valjean’s name over and over again, the name losing its meaning, becoming an exclamation, a filler. He imagined Valjean holding him as he came down from his orgasmic high. The man would rub his shoulders and biceps soothingly, praising him softly. 

Eventually, Javert opened his eyes. The room was bright, and he could see that he had soiled his clothes. He groaned and got up, undressing and tossing his shorts, t-shirt, and underwear into the dirty clothes hamper. He went to the bathroom to wash his hands. Javert looked at himself in the mirror, and he frowned. He truly looked like an animal: his hair was dishevelled, his face was flushed and he was still sweaty –  from yoga and from what he had just done. Seeing himself naked made him feel even uglier. His chest was nowhere near as defined as Valjean’s, his cock was nowhere near as large; in general, his unclothed body was pitiful, especially when compared to Valjean’s. Javert dried his hands, intending to leave, but he stopped. Gingerly, he posed in front of the mirror, trying to find a position in which he looked more attractive. He stuck his ass out to the side, one hand on his hip. Perhaps Valjean would be into his bizarrely plump bottom. It was the only part of his body that could ever be considered attractive.    
  
He shook his head and left the bathroom. He entered his bedroom, put on some casual clothes, and stood by his window, looking out into the cool March day. He could hardly see anything other than the side of the building beside his own, and the busy sidewalk far below him. Still, he enjoyed the sunlight.   
  
He didn’t used to; he always preferred the darkness. Most of his life was spent shut up in the dark; at first by force, but then by his own choice. But now…   
  
Valjean in Toulon – 24601 – had been arousing to Javert, yes. Javert had looked at the muscled prisoner and fantasized about having the man turn that force against him, both of them willing, but neither of them respecting each other; the sex would be rough, quick, passionate but yet devoid of passion. Valjean was dark and large and brutal, and Javert wanted Valjean in that way.   
  
Now it was the sunlight that reminded him of Valjean. He always saw Jean with bright light shining in his soft brown hair, reflecting off his warm eyes. His smile was like sunshine. And the light so suited Valjean now. Though Valjean’s muscles had only grown more prominent, more defined, the man had become gentle, kind, soft. The strength that rested, coiled tight in his powerful muscles, was no longer brutal. It was admirable, it was comforting.    
  
Javert wanted this new Valjean in ways incomparable to how he used to feel in Toulon. He wanted him with the same intensity, perhaps more, but in different ways. He no longer wanted the rough, the quick, the passionless. Nay, he couldn’t imagine that Valjean would do that. He used to picture himself gripping at the bars of Valjean’s cell as the prisoner took him, the both of them grunting and panting like animals. Not anymore. Now he wanted Valjean in a large, luxuriously soft bed with more pillows that were practical– he wanted slow, languid, gentle sex that allowed him to take in the sight and feel Valjean’s powerful, beautiful body. He wanted to hear Valjean moan and pant and gasp, he wanted the man to whimper his name. He wanted Valjean’s massive cock to slide slowly, ever so slowly, in and out of him, the stretch and the friction and the tension driving him mad. He wanted to  _ kiss  _ Valjean,  _ God,  _ he wanted Valjean’s lips against his as they fucked – no, as they made love. As they made tender, gentle, passionate love.

Javert sighed. He’d never liked that expression– “make love”. Mostly because it had the word “love” in it, and he didn’t like love. And sex wasn’t love. Love was stupid, but sex was natural – they weren’t the same thing. But what else could he call what he wanted with Valjean? “Sex” was not descriptive enough. “Sleeping with” was too euphemistic. “Fucking” was what he used to want. Now he wanted to  _ make love to _ Valjean.

Maybe he had changed.    
  
He told himself it was Valjean that had changed, and his desires were just adapting to Valjean’s new personality.   
  
Maybe Valjean was changing him. Maybe they were changing together.   
  
Javert realized that his plan wasn’t working. He had just taken himself in hand, and he was already lusting after Valjean. And his heart… his heart ached more than ever, though there was an overwhelming feel of happiness in the pit of his stomach.    
  
What was he to do now?   
  
Eventually, Javert went downstairs to eat some lunch. He used the elastic Valjean had given him to tie his hair back, and he left to run some errands. He purchased himself new hair ties, as he would not wear such a bright colour as light blue on a regular basis. However, he kept the blue one around his wrist, though it left a dent in his skin when he removed it.   
  
Next Saturday, Valjean noticed it; the older man pointed it out with a bashful smile. Javert blushed and told him he kept it as a spare, just in case the one he wore broke.

He didn't want to admit, to himself or to Valjean, that the elastic had gathered sentimental value. Javert kept it to feel Valjean close to him, a part of Valjean’s influence and Valjean’s benevolence around his wrist.

Javert was getting sentimental, he was getting attached to Valjean. He looked forward to his day off – he never had, before – because it meant he would see Valjean. He found his thoughts straying occasionally to the man, when work was slow, or when he was on break. Javert wondered what the yoga instructor could be doing. He wondered if Valjean thought of him, too.

Javert felt himself fall into this pit of obsession, but he was helpless to stop his tumble. 

All his life, he hand been balancing on one foot; 24601 caused him to lose his balance and start to wobble. When he first noticed how Madeleine’s laugh made him feel, he began to flail his arms in a desperate attempt to catch himself. Then when he touched himself to that video, he stumbled. He righted himself when he believed he needed to arrest Valjean, but as soon as the truth was revealed, he was caught off guard. He tripped, and he was falling, he was falling fast.    
  
Would Jean Valjean catch him?


	9. He Don't Exclaim "I Blush For Shame"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is.... really sad? I don't know how... There are also a SHIT TON of sun metaphors, I eventually started doing those on purpose. 
> 
> I wanted to name this chapter "Yoga is the East and Valjean is the Sun" but that would be two chapters that are Romeo and Juliet references ("What's In a Name?" is the other one) and that's weird. So instead, I used a line from the Gilbert and Sullivan aria "The Sun Whose Rays Are All Ablaze". So it's also a sun metaphor. Nice.
> 
> Again, sorry for the angst?? Enjoy??

The next four weeks passed by, at once slowly and in a flash. Every week, Javert seemed to be falling further and further into this pit of despair. It had gotten to the point where he could no longer focus on work, what with the strange ache in his heart and the churning in his stomach. His boss had even asked him if he was doing alright, if there was anything wrong; any semblance of distraction in Javert was so unusual. Javert assured him that he was simply more tired than usual.

He was tired; his sleep was plagued by images of Valjean as much as his waking hours were, but, without his consciousness working to drive them away, they were indulgent, intoxicating. Not all were sexual– some were simply of Valjean holding in his arms, kissing him softly. Perhaps these were the most unsettling of his dreams. It made Javert wonder if lust was all he felt for Valjean. 

These images and these thoughts made his nights restless, and so, he really was tired.

Saturdays were torture and delight all at once; Valjean was both a scorching desert and a cool oasis therein. Valjean was indeed the sun; basking Javert in his warmth and his light, but burning after too much exposure, hurting Javert’s eyes if he dared look for too long. Valjean’s hands on him were solar flares, reaching out to disrupt his calm and heat him with arousal, but not reaching far enough, not touching the surface of his need. Yet, without Valjean’s hands occasionally on his body, warm and heavy and sure, he would go mad with desire; he would not survive. Without the sun, there could be no life.

If Javert’s emotional torment wasn't bad enough, there was another factor in the Valjean equation: Garreth. Like a big grey storm cloud, Garreth sought to block out Valjean’s light and hog it all to himself. 

Garreth would always be trying to talk to Valjean at the beginning of class, try to flirt with him and compliment him and make him laugh. He succeeded often; Valjean would laugh, and Javert was furious. He hated that Valjean laughed so genuinely at some stupid quip of Garreth's. He was so very jealous every time Valjean gave attention to anyone else, but mostly when it was given to Garreth.

Javert hated Garreth, more than he had ever hated just about anyone or anything. He and Garreth fought after every class: outside, where Fantine couldn't stop them and where Jean couldn't hear. Garreth would insult Javert’s appearance, personality, how he acted towards Jean. Javert would fire back with many of the same types of comments, albeit more eloquently worded and stinging. Javert technically won their petty squabbles, as it was always Garreth who left with a huff. But Garreth’s words bit like frost.

And so it was sweeter still for Javert to enter his private lessons, to have Valjean’s attention all to himself, that sweet smile and kindness warning him, thawing his frozen heart, turning the insults that still lingered in his mind to ash. Frostbitten flesh turned sunkissed around Valjean, muscles clenched in anger surrendered to the burn of a stretch. 

And so the weeks went on in this bizarre way. Like the rising and setting of the sun, Javert reached the heavens with his happiness only to sink back down below the horizon to find himself in darkness. 

Yoga was so stressful.

It was 10:25 on the morning of Javert’s eighth yoga class, his sixth private lesson. After class, he and Garreth exchanged barbs until Garreth left, and then Javert worked in his car. Javert also ended up pondering how he didn't deny to Garreth that he wanted Valjean. He supposed he realized from the start that Garreth wouldn't believe it if he had denied his desires. Garreth wanted this to be a competition between them; who would get into their yoga instructor’s pants. And that's exactly what it had become. Honestly, if Javert were an observer of this fight instead of a participant, he would put his money on neither of them getting anywhere near their goal.

But now it was time to wash that all away. He made his way to the second door down the hallway, knocked, waited for the call to come in, and entered the room. 

As always, Valjean had his towel, his notebook, and his water with him, and was hanging out on the floor when Javert entered. Valjean smiled. “Hello again, Javert,” he greeted warmly. 

Javert nodded to the other man and sat, no longer having to be reminded.

“How are you doing today, Javert?” Valjean asked.

“I’m alright,” Javert lied.

“You look tired,” Valjean pointed out, concern creasing his brow.

“I am tired. But that is all,” Javert lied more firmly. 

Valjean didn’t seem convinced. The man frowned. “Is something the matter?”

“Valjean, please. I am only tired,” he said.   
  
Jean Valjean studied him longer with his warm brown eyes, and Javert felt like an ant under the watchful eye of a child, so small and helpless. Valjean nodded. “If you insist. Though I am always here for you if you need someone to confide in. After all, you’ve kept all of my secrets; it’s only fair if I allow you to share some of yours.” Valjean smiled, light and joking, and Javert wanted to smile back but he couldn’t.    
  
Valjean’s secrets were shameful, but Javert felt his were somehow worse.    
  
Since Javert hardly smiled in such contexts, Valjean thought nothing of it. He simply looked away to take a sip of water before facing Javert again.    
  
“Alright, then,” he said with his habitual smile, “We’ll get started.”   
  
Javert stood, unrolled his mat, and got into the first position in his well-practiced yoga sequence, upward-facing dog. He was facing the mirror, watching.   
  
Valjean knelt beside him and looked over Javert’s form. Javert observed as Valjean’s reflection in the mirror reached a hand out to touch his back. Javert felt the warm press of the man’s hand and tried not to sigh in pleasure.   
  
“Wonderful, Javert. Your form is great.”   
  
Javert didn’t know how he felt about Valjean’s praise. It was too much, it was too good. The hand was still resting on his back, though it wasn’t necessary. In the mirror, Valjean was solid, still.   
  
Javert still toyed with the possibility that Valjean was attracted to him. He had no evidence to support or deny this claim, really. Valjean was unreadable, as if every emotion of his was written in code. Javert knew Valjean liked him – still surprising – but he had no idea how much, or in what way.    
  
Valjean’s eyes met his in the mirror. “Okay, next.”   
  
Javert lowered himself to his knees, having already been lectured several times on keeping his transitions slow and gentle. Valjean’s hand was still on his back, and only moved when he pushed himself into downward dog. Javert was wearing an old t-shirt today, and it was looser, so it slipped down a little due to gravity, exposing his midriff. Despite this, Valjean’s hand settled on Javert’s lower back, making sure his spine was straight. Javert almost whimpered at the touch on his bare skin. It was gone soon, but then Valjean’s hand reappeared, this time on his stomach. Javert couldn’t suppress a choked gasp.   
  
“Sorry. That tickle?” Valjean asked. His hand was pressed lightly against his abs – this, Javert was used to. But not the electric feeling of skin against skin. Not that.   
  
“A bit,” Javert lied. It was not ticklish. It was a tease. If only Valjean would move his hand further down… His cock twitched the smallest amount. He was wobbling on his arms.   
  
The hand was gone. “Good. Next position.”   
  
Javert lowered himself to his knees, feeling shaky. Valjean stood, and he followed. He reached towards his toes.    
  
“Face forward, Javert,” Valjean said. His voice was strangely quiet. Javert looked up. He looked exactly as uncomfortable as he felt; face tinted red, hair a mess, eyes wide. Valjean was unreadable.   
  
“Stick your rear out a little more.”   
  
Javert saw what the comment did to him. His reflection in the mirror blushed and his cock gave another pitiful twitch. No, not here, not now! And because Valjean had touched him and made reference to his butt. How could he still be aroused, even though Valjean used the word “rear”? 

He obeyed the command, his back arching as he endeavoured to please Valjean.    
  
The man walked until he was behind Javert.  _ Behind _ him. He had to be staring at Javert’s ass, because he nodded and said “better” when the inspector stuck it out a little more. The realization sent waves of arousal coursing through Javert, and his cock began to pulse. No, no, no. He stared at himself in the mirror in panic, as if his reflection could help him. He couldn’t get hard, not while he was here. Valjean would see, Valjean would know, that innocent man who said “rear” instead of ass would watch him get a boner. The knowledge of the shame he would feel then only turned him on more.

“Alright, next one.”

Javert didn't want to. He wanted to run away and never come back.   
  
But he obeyed Valjean anyway.   
  
He knelt down on the mat again, and grabbed his ankles. He pushed his chest upwards so that his back was arched and his head tipped back. When Valjean had first demonstrated this pose to him, he had been sceptical that he could achieve such a position. However, it turned out to be far easier than it looked.    
  
It sounded and felt like every single one of his vertebrae cracked and popped separately as he got into the pose, and usually this amused him.   
  
Now, however, he was far too distracted by the growing discomfort between his legs.   
  
“Excellent, Javert,” said Valjean. The man was still standing, looking down at him with a smile. How  _ easy  _ it was to imagine himself kneeling in front of Valjean, the man fixing him with the same smile as he pulled his large, heavy cock free from the confines of his shorts. Javert could imagine the intoxicatingly masculine flavour of Jean Valjean’s penis, the praising moans Valjean would gift him with as he licked and sucked. Valjean’s hands in his hair, pulling Javert closer…

It took a moment for Javert to realize Valjean had actually placed a gentle hand on the top of his head, and another moment to remember not to moan aloud.

“Keep your head back,” Valjean instructed him, putting a little more pressure on Javert’s head. “That’s it,” muttered the older man, his voice low.

Damn, Javert was half erect. He gritted his teeth. How long yet did he have to sustain this torture?

“Okay, next one.” 

The hand on his head was gone, and Javert righted himself. He caught sight of his own hard-on in the mirror, and he cursed himself for wearing light grey shorts. If Valjean decided to look, he would see everything there was to see. Javert almost wished Valjean would.

Javert sat down and tucked his left foot into his thigh. He stretched out his left leg and leaned over. Now he could reach to about halfway between his knee and his ankle. An improvement.

“Good, Javert.” 

Javert’s foot was close enough to his groin that he could feel the warmth of his arousal. If he just pushed his hips forward a tiny bit, he could press his erection into his heel. What a sight it would be for Valjean; Javert rendered so terribly horny that he was satisfied to hump his own foot. What would Valjean do? Would he kick him out? Or would he just watch in helpless disgust… Or would he stop Javert and strip him of his clothes, take Javert’s cock into his warm, calloused hands…   
  
“Switch.”   
  
Javert obeyed. His prick was all but throbbing now, and having his legs spread like this was torture. He didn’t dare breathe as deeply as Valjean wanted him to, lest he moan or whimper or make some other embarrassing noise.   
  
“That’s perfect, Javert.”   
  
Javert swallowed down all words and noises that bubbled up to his throat.    
  
“Sit up for me.”   
  
The inspector sat, making sure to close his legs. He was confused; this wasn’t part of the sequence.    
  
“I think we ought to stop there. You seem unwell,” Valjean said.   
  
“Unwell? I told you I’m just tired.”   
  
“Well, I don’t believe you. You seem tired, sure, but also agitated. And you’re getting more agitated the longer you’ve been here.”   
  
Javert didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”   
  
“No, don’t apologize! Tell me honestly what’s wrong!”   
  
Javert shook his head.   
  
Valjean sighed. “Fine; I’ll play the guessing game if that's what you want. Is it because of work?”

Javert was tempted to lie and tell Valjean that yes, he was facing a difficult case at work which was giving him a lot of anxiety. But he shook his head anyway.

“Family drama?”

“I don't know any of my family,” Javert snapped.

“Ah. Neither do I. Not anymore.” A pause. “Relationship problems?”

Javert scoffed. Valjean thought he was in a relationship. Although that was rather close to the truth, it was still hilarious to think that Valjean believed him to have a girlfriend or boyfriend. “I don't  _ do  _ relationships,” he said.

Valjean got a strange expression, like he was relieved and disappointed all at once. He nodded, and his unreadable expression returned. “Something personal, then?”

“Yes. Just a personal problem. Nothing big.”

Valjean’s mouth was pressed into a frown. “Alright.” He got up and turned away from Javert. “You should leave and get some rest.”   
  
Javert nodded. He rolled up his mat and put it away– in the last four weeks, Valjean had finally taught him how – and he stood up.   
  
Valjean suddenly perked up a little, turning around. “Oh, Javert! Are you coming next week?”

Ah, yes. At the end of the class, Valjean had told the group that next week, their class would join the next class: advanced hot yoga. They would get experience in the hot yoga room, and the advanced class would get experience helping beginners. All Javert could think about was being in a hot room with a shirtless, sweaty Jean Valjean, and he could not refuse.

“Of course I will be,” Javert said.

Valjean smiled, looking relieved. “Wonderful! You listened carefully to my instructions, right?”

Javert nodded. Hair tied up, light clothes, towel, lots of water. Come for 9:00 instead of 8:00. “Yes.”

“Great! I'm sure it will be a wonderful experience for you.” He paused and his smile faded. “Although… if you're this tired next week, the heat will not be good for you.”

“Will you stop acting like I'm a child?” Javert snapped. His arousal had subsided, giving way to reason.

Valjean looked shocked at Javert’s sudden change of attitude. “I-I’m only concerned for your safety, Javert. I don't mean to–”

“It is not your job to be  _ concerned _ .”

“It  _ is _ part of my job. I need to make sure my students are alright.”

Javert’s eyes narrowed. “You are doing more than making sure I am alright. You are invading my privacy.”

Valjean swallowed. He looked down. “That wasn't my intention. I’m sorry, Javert. I'll back off.”

“Why do you care so much about me?”

“I care about everyone.”

“I’ll rephrase it. Why does Jean Valjean care about his old jailer?”

Valjean froze. His eyes shot up to meet Javert’s. “Javert… I thought we had both agreed to leave the past in the past.”

“And so you're showing me this exaggerated kindness to prove to me that you're doing just that.”

“Exaggerated? Javert, I'm just being civil.”

“I've never understood why you even let me in your school. After what I did to you. I know a couple of the scars you have were inflicted by my hand.”

Valjean licked his lips, looking down. Javert found himself hypnotized by the gesture, despite everything. “So it’s me. I'm what’s troubling you.”

Javert blushed. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” A long pause. “What would you have me do? Treat you like scum?”  
  
Javert shook his head, and looked away. “I don’t know. Perhaps that would make more sense to me.”  
  
“Well, I won’t. I don’t want to treat you poorly just because you think it would make sense.”   
  
And then Valjean’s hand was on his shoulder. Javert’s eyes snapped up. Valjean was looking at him, his eyes showing a strange mixture of concern and hopefulness. Javert almost shuddered.  
  
“Okay? I won’t. I won’t make you tell me anything more about your personal life if you don’t want to tell me. But I will not treat you with any less care than I’ve shown you over the course of these lessons.”  
  
Javert didn’t move or say anything.  
  
“Javert…”   
  
Valjean stepped towards the younger man and wrapped his arms around Javert’s back, holding him in a gentle embrace. Javert froze. Valjean was a head shorter than him; his nose was pressed into Javert’s shoulder. He was so solid against the inspector, yet so warm and tender.  
  
“I wanted to help you,” Valjean said, rubbing Javert’s back, “Not cause you pain.”  
  
Javert had no good response. He clenched his jaw tight so that he wouldn’t say anything.   
  
“I’m sorry.” After a moment, Valjean pulled away, and looked Javert in the eye. “Can you forgive me? Will I see you next week?” He asked this with much more concern than Javert thought the man would ever have for him.   
  
Javert nodded. “Yes.” His voice was scarcely a whisper.  
  
Valjean closed his eyes in relief. “Thank you. I’m very grateful.” He opened his eyes, and his hands slid down to Javert’s biceps. “Javert, please, _please_ take care of yourself…”  
  
The inspector nodded, not wanting to test his voice again.  
  
Valjean forced a little smile, and nodded. He finally let go of Javert altogether. “‘Til next week, then.”  
  
Javert nodded once more and left the room.   
  
When he got to his car, he noticed that his erection had returned halfway. This filled him with anger. Valjean was such a kind, caring, good man, and Javert’s body was reacting as if he were a whore. The man had given him a hug and begged for forgiveness, and this had aroused him. Disgusting.  
  
Javert hated himself for this. He hated how he couldn’t control his flesh or his mind, which had thought such lewd things of Valjean during his lesson.   
  
He hated Valjean for not hating him.  
  
If earlier he had felt that he was an ant under the watchful gaze of a curious little boy, now the boy had taken out a magnifying glass and focused a beam of sunlight on Javert, and he was burning up. Javert wanted to scream in pain, but it felt like he had already vaporized in a puff of flame, and the sun was staring down, unaware of what it had just done.


	10. The Fires of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the squad's all here.
> 
> Thanks for all the support so far! 
> 
> I think there will be only... 3 chapters left? We're getting there. :)

Javert entered Jean Madeleine’s Yoga Academy at 8:40 next Saturday morning, feeling even more emotionally conflicted than ever. In addition to his inner turmoil which had only grown more turbulent after last week’s events, he was now dealing with the fact that he was in public with his hair in a high ponytail. He felt like some kind of cheerleader, and he hoped no one would say anything about it.    
  
When he opened the door, he realized that it was much different than it usually was when he arrived; eight or so people had gathered in the waiting room area, including Valjean, and thankfully not including Garreth. Javert quickly doffed his coat, socks, and boots, and made his way to the other side of the room, where there were chairs, but no people.    
  
“Javert, don’t sit there by yourself!” called Valjean’s cheery voice, “Come over here!”   
  
Javert sighed. “If you insist,” he said. He brought his yoga mat to where the group had gathered.    
  
Valjean gestured to an empty bamboo chair that was right next to him. “Please, sit.”   
  
Javert did, aware of all these sets of eyes on him, most of them unknown to him.    
  
“I see you did something different with your hair today!” Valjean said to him, smiling brilliantly.   
  
“Yes, I remembered last week’s lecture to ‘Ladies with long hair… And Javert’.”   
  
This comment raised laughter from the group, though it wasn’t Javert’s intention. Since Valjean was among those laughing, he didn’t regret saying it.    
  
“Of course,” Valjean said. “Although it’s very nice, for hot yoga, you’ll need it all the way back, including your bangs.”   
  
Javert frowned. “Oh. I didn’t remember that part.”   
  
“It’s alright. Just do that now. Do you need bobby pins?”   
  
Javert blushed a little. He would have to put even more effort into his hair? “Yes, please.”   
  
“Coming right up!” Valjean stood and gently slid past some of the yoga students to get to his office.    
  
Javert took this moment to look around the group. There was a young woman with blond hair and dark lipstick, who was watching him with a smile. Beside her, there was another young woman with curly brown hair, who looked like she was trying not to laugh. Next to her, there was a tall woman with straight brown hair, looking out the window over Javert’s head. The next woman had curly light brown hair and glasses, and was pointedly looking at the ground.

Javert only had a chance to scope out these four women before Valjean returned with a baggie of bobby pins in his hand. “Here you go,” he said, holding the bag out to Javert. The inspector took it with a muttered “thank you”. He sighed and began to attempt to pin his bangs back. Really, he’d never done this before, and he wasn’t keen on his first try being a spectator event. He pinned a chunk of hair back, but it immediately popped back out. He groaned softly in annoyance.    
  
Valjean must have noticed this because he chuckled and said: “Here, let me help.”   
  
Javert’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to, V– Mister Madeleine. Really.”   
  
Valjean shook his head. “I don’t want to watch you struggle like that. It hurts my soul.”   
  
Another round of laughter. Javert blushed. “Okay, alright. Just do it, then.”   
  
“Thanks. I’ll be gentle,” Valjean promised.   
  
Those words only made Javert think of…   
  
No. He wouldn’t. Not here, not now, not with all these people. He clenched his jaw.    
  
Valjean carefully pulled the elastic out of Javert’s hair and began to run his fingers through it, untangling some of the little knots Javert had missed when he’d brushed his hair earlier that morning. Then Valjean stood behind him and began to gather his hair in one hand. Javert felt the eyes on him and wanted to melt into the ground. Valjean’s hands felt undeniably good when they brushed his scalp, and he did not want to be here in front of so many strangers as Valjean pulled his hair into a higher ponytail than he could manage on his own. He felt like one of those toy Barbie doll heads; the ones that end up shaved, drawn on, and thrown out. But instead, he was just being pampered by his yoga teacher.    
  
Valjean secured Javert’s new hairstyle with one elastic. “Give me the one on your wrist, please,” Valjean asked him quietly. Javert had almost forgotten about the light blue hair band that had become a part of his daily outfit now. He blushed a bit as he handed it to Valjean, who thanked him. The older man did  _ something  _ to Javert’s hair, and secured it in a bun with the blue elastic.    
  
“I think that should work,” Valjean said. “Turn to me, please.”   
  
Javert reluctantly turned to face Valjean, who had sat back down. Valjean took a bobby pin out of the bag and pushed Javert’s bangs to the left side of his face. They didn’t want to co-operate, apparently, so Valjean stuck the pin in his own mouth and used both hands.   
  
The inspector almost shivered at the intensity with which Valjean regarded him as he did this. Valjean finally took the pin out of his teeth and slipped it into Javert’s bangs. He smiled. “There. Now you’re ready for hot yoga.”   
  
Javert thanked him awkwardly and tried not to sink into his chair. A few of the women were clapping jokingly, and Valjean bowed his head to them.    
  
Javert also noticed that a few people had entered the studio since last he looked; mainly, Garreth. Judging by the angry frown on his face, he had seen Valjean being a hair stylist. Javert straightened his back and gave the man a flash of a smug grin. Garreth turned away.   
  
The door opened again, and a short blonde woman entered in a rush. “I am ready to burn in the fires of hell today!” she loudly announced.    
  
“‘Good morning’ to you too, Cassidy,” Valjean replied with a chuckle.   
  
Javert looked away in exasperation. This woman was in the beginner class as well, and, after a few weeks of relative silence, had proven to be one of the most obnoxious people he had ever met. Similarly to Garreth, she always talked to Valjean in an effort to make him laugh. The main difference between her and Garreth was that she was not flirting with him. Also, occasionally she said something that was actually funny. 

Anyway, the more she talked to Valjean, the less Garreth would. Thus, Garreth hated her, and Javert was glad she was there. “The enemy of my enemy…”   
  
Cassidy walked up behind a curly-haired man who was sitting down, looking at his phone. She hugged him from behind, which caused him to jump up, startled in a way that almost made Javert want to chuckle. “Hey, Stewie!” she said to the man. “Oh, hey, Cassidy…” the man replied, blushing. Javert rolled his eyes and looked away. Stupid young love. Stupid  _ love in general.  _ He clenched his jaw, uncertain why he was so mad.    
  
A voice rose out of the buzz of conversation. “How are you doing this week, Javert?” Valjean asked. Javert turned to face the older man.   
  
“Just fine, thanks. How are you?”   
  
“I’m very well.” Valjean paused, and his trademark smile faded. “I’m still sorry about… everything, Javert.”   
  
Javert blushed. “It’s alright.”   
  
“Are you sure? I feel horrible.”   
  
“I am sure.”   
  
Valjean smiled at him, and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth to speak, but he suddenly turned around, distracted by something.   
  
“Alex, what did I tell you about suits?” Valjean sighed.   
  
“But today the beginner class is joining us! I wanted to dress up and make a good impression!” whined a young man with short brown hair and glasses, who was indeed wearing a formal suit. 

Valjean chuckled. “You do look quite dapper, but I'm sure you'll make just as good of an impression in proper workout clothes. Change, please.”   
  
Alex whined a little, but did go off to the bathroom.   
  
Why was everyone here so weird? And what was Valjean going to say?   
  
By 8:55, Alex had come back shorts and a muscle shirt, and more people had arrived, many of whom Javert recognized.   
  
“Well,” Valjean said, checking his watch, “I think that’s everyone. Before we go in, let’s go around the circle and say our name, along with, if you’re in the advanced class, how long you’ve been doing yoga, or, if you’re a beginner, how you’re feeling about trying hot yoga for the first time. For example, I’m Jean, as you all know, and I’ve been doing yoga for 17 years.” He looked at Javert. “You’re next.”   
  
Javert cleared his throat. “Uh… Well, I’m Javert, and I’m feeling like I might pass out from the heat.”   
  
Many people laughed, and there was a chorus of “same” from some of the millennials. Valjean touched his shoulder. “That is very unlikely to happen, Javert. Don’t worry.”   
  
Valjean looked to the next person in line; Tina, the weird-lipstick woman from Javert’s class, now wearing… orange lipstick? “I’m Tina,” she said, “and I’m feeling a little nervous but mostly excited.”   
  
“I’m Mabel,” said the blond woman with dark lipstick, “and I’ve been doing yoga for five years.”   
  
“My name is Anna, and I’ve been doing yoga for six years.”   
  
Stephanie, the Stephanie who had given Javert valuable information – had wedged herself in next to Anna. Stephanie had mentioned a friend named Anna, hadn’t she? Javert supposed this was her. Stephanie said she was super excited to be trying hot yoga.    
  
“My name’s Jamie,” said the tall woman, “And I’ve been doing yoga for four years.”   
  
“I’m Shannon, and I’ve been doing yoga for six years,” the girl with the glasses said.    
  
They went around the room like this, and Javert learned various things about the people in the circle – the man Cassidy had glommed onto was named Stewart, not Stewie, Alex had been doing yoga for four years, and Garreth was “ _ feeling very confident about trying this, and was grateful for such a great experience”.  _ Blegh.   
  
After this, Valjean led them into the hot yoga room, which wasn’t hot yet. He had everyone set up their mats so that the advanced students were mixed in evenly with the beginner students. Javert was happy that he was set up at the end of the room, but he was less happy that Garreth was closeby.    
  
At this point, many people began shedding their shirts, or pants if they had shorts on underneath. Javert certainly didn’t feel the need to take off his shirt; he wasn’t particularly proud of his body. He really didn’t want to scandalize all these people with his unattractive bare chest.   
  
This didn’t stop Garreth, however, as Javert’s eyes were assaulted by the young man’s pasty skin. Garreth smirked at him.   
  
“What, are you too shy to take your shirt off?” the young man teased.    
  
“Not shy, but not as desperate as you,” Javert replied simply.   
  
Garreth may have been meaning to reply, but Valjean chose that exact moment to remove his own shirt. God, he was  _ so hot.  _ If it was possible, his muscles seemed even more defined than they were the last time Javert saw them.    
  
“Damn,” muttered Garreth under his breath.   
  
For the first time, Javert agreed with Garreth. “Damn indeed.”   
  
“Are we ready to turn up the heat?” Valjean asked cheerfully.    
  
A chorus of various forms of “Yes” rose from the yoga students.    
  
“Am I ever,” whispered Garreth. Javert wanted to retch.   
  
Valjean went over to the controls and pushed some buttons. Soon, the room began to heat up, very gradually.   
  
“Okay! Everyone lie down on your mats.”   
  
Valjean waited for people to do so.   
  
“Alright, so, this is how it’s going to work today. We’re gonna start with meditation, and then after that, it’s not going to be anywhere as structured. This isn’t Bikram yoga. My advanced students, you can do sequences we’ve worked on or that you know. Beginner students, you can do the same, or follow an advanced student if you want. If you aren’t feeling so well, you can go into easy pose or corpse pose at any time you like. Remember to drink lots of water, but sip, don’t chug. Alright, let’s get started. Let your body relax and your eyes close…”   
  
Valjean commenced his habitual relaxation speech, and Javert followed along. He noticed that the room was already becoming very warm; the air was heavy and humid and unforgiving. His breathing felt more laboured than usual; the hot air didn’t feel refreshing at all to him. Amazingly, it was still heating up. He felt sweat start to bead at his forehead a few minutes into the meditation.    
  
By the time Valjean told everyone to open their eyes, Javert felt like he was in the Amazon. He sat up slowly and immediately took a drink of water. He sighed. He didn’t know what he was going to do. He looked over at the other students; most of the advanced ones were already standing and doing ridiculous poses, and most of the beginners were sitting on their mats, looking dazed. Garreth was attempting to follow what Jamie was doing, and was failing miserably, though he didn’t seem to realize. Javert sighed and slumped into a seated forward bend.    
  
“What exactly are you doing, Garreth?” Valjean asked.    
  
“Oh, I’m following her, Jean,” Garreth replied innocently, designating Jamie.   
  
“Ah. Well, maybe you should consider trying something a little more simple to start with. Perhaps do the sequence we’ve been working on in your lessons.”

Garreth smiled. “Alright. Jean, if I may ask… your tattoo is very interesting. What does it mean?”

Javert froze. How  _ dare _ Garreth ask him? It was none of his business.

Valjean laughed. “It’s a long story. Perhaps I'll tell you at your next lesson.”

“Okay. I look forward to hearing it.”

Valjean smiled awkwardly and walked towards the inspector. “And how are you doing, Javert?”

Javert looked up at Valjean, but the man squatted next to him. Javert almost whimpered, with Valjean next to him, shirtless. A sheen of sweat already covered his body. Javert longed to plant his lips on Valjean’s collarbone and suck on that sweaty skin… Javert swallowed down the arousal that was bubbling up from inside him. “I'm doing alright.”

Valjean smiled. “Good, good. You too; you should try the sequence we do in our lessons, if you're feeling up to it.” Valjean got up and went on his way. 

As soon as Valjean was out of earshot, Garreth smirked at Javert from his cat pose. “He said he’d tell me what his tattoo means later. What say you to that, Javert?”

Javert frowned, flipping into his stomach, getting ready for his upward dog. “I already know what his tattoo means.”

Garreth looked appalled for a moment, and then he laughed. “Right. What does it mean, then?”

Javert crunched his back into the upward dog. “It’s none of your business.”

“You're lying. He never told you.”

Javert was trying to think of a reply, when he was disturbed by a soft “Dun! Dun dun dun! Dun dun dun! Dun dun duuuun!”

Javert looked around.

“Rising up, back on the street   
Did my time, took my chances   
Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet   
Just a man and his will to survive,” sang a quiet voice. Javert located it: it was Jamie. She continued: “So many times it happens too fast   
You trade your passion for glory   
Don't lose your grip on the dreams of the past   
You must fight just to keep them alive!”

Suddenly, she was joined by another, much louder voice, harmonizing: “It's the eye of the tiger   
It's the thrill of the fight   
Rising up to the challenge of our rival!”

Valjean frowned. “Jamie, Cassidy, please stop singing!” he said exasperatedly.

“Sorry,” both women said. However, they turned to each other with smiles and finger guns.

Javert was grateful for this interruption, because it took his mind off both Garreth and Valjean.

It was maybe ten minutes later when Javert felt like the heat was really getting to him. He was very grateful that his hair was off of his forehead and neck; he couldn't imagine having to bear the feeling of his thick hair glued to his sweaty skin. The sweat was practically dripping off of his body. He felt like a swamp monster.    
  
Garreth stared at him smugly. “You’re a mess, Javert.”   
  
Javert frowned. It was true; even Garreth currently looked better than him. Though everyone in the room was sweating bullets, only Javert seemed to be drenched. He hoped at least that his deodorant was strong enough that he wouldn’t smell as bad as he looked. “I’m aware.”   
  
Garreth shook his head. “You’re losing.”   
  
“Jean isn’t so shallow. Appearance doesn’t matter to him as much as personality. You have about as much personality as wet chalk.”   
  
The younger man scoffed. “Big talk for a guy with ass implants.”   
  
Javert’s eyebrows raised. “Ass– What?”   
  
“Yeah, you heard me! I know your secret!”   
  
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t have ass implants.”   
  
“Um, yeah you do!” Garreth said defensively. “ _ No one’s  _ ass is that big.”   
  
Javert looked Garreth dead in the eye. “Why not? You’re that big of an ass.”   
  
The other man’s jaw gaped and then clenched. He stared down at his yoga mat. “Implants. It has to be,” he muttered under his breath.   
  
Javert said nothing, only smirked to himself.   
  
Five minutes later found Javert sweating like an entire church full of whores, feeling like a freshly baked pastry that had been forgotten in the oven. He finally resigned himself to take his shirt off; everyone’s judgements be damned. This was only a small relief, but he felt the difference anyway. He sighed. He made the mistake of looking to see if anyone had been watching him; he made eye contact with Valjean, who seemed to have frozen in place to stare at Javert, gaping.    
  
Who knows how long they would have stared at each other had Javert not been distracted by movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked – it was Mabel and Tina; they were kissing passionately and voraciously, hands going everywhere and their individual shades of lipstick smearing together messily. Javert cringed as Valjean noticed them and told them off.    
  
Why couldn’t that have been him and Valjean?    
  
With five minutes til the end of the class, they all lay there, doing their closing meditations, while the room slowly cooled off. Javert was deep in thought. He’d seen how Valjean had gaped at him when he took his shirt off; for a second, the walls around Valjean’s inner thoughts had crumbled away, and Javert had been given a glance of the burning desire within. It had to be that. The look in Valjean’s eyes had portrayed the same feelings Javert himself had. It was undeniable, as bizarre as it felt.   
  
He had to confront Valjean. He had to.   
  
It was with this thought in mind that he entered his private lesson at 10:30.


	11. Le Soleil est devenu noir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short chapter, filled with SO MANY METAPHORS AND SIMILES AGH.
> 
> The title comes from a poem I read for French Class, Un Corbeau by Théophile de Viau. I read it and was like, hey, sun metaphor. 
> 
> ENJOY

“So? How did you find it today?” Valjean asked with a smile.  
  
“I found it… Very hot.”   
  
Valjean laughed. “That’s very observant of you. Did you enjoy it?”   
  
“Not particularly,” Javert said truthfully.   
  
Valjean nodded. “Ah, well; hot yoga isn’t for everyone. At least you didn’t pass out or anything as you feared you would.”   
  
“That is true.”   
  
“Well, Javert, are you up for our usual lesson, or would you rather do some more gentle stretches?”   
  
Javert cleared his throat. “Actually… I believe I must address something with you.”   
  
Valjean’s smile faded a little. “Oh?”   
  
Javert sat down. “Yes, I… Hmm, how do I phrase this…” He patted his brow awkwardly with his towel. How _was_ he supposed to phrase this? Did it matter? It shouldn’t. He had seen the look in Valjean’s eyes when he took off his shirt. They both had the same desires, didn’t they? “Perhaps there is no way to phrase this delicately,” Javert admitted, frowning.   
  
“Is something the matter, Javert?” Valjean asked, now very worried.   
  
“No, not at all. It is just that… Well, I…” Javert cursed himself for how he was acting. It was true that he had never asked anyone something like this before, but he should be able to figure it out! He was a grown man, for God’s sake! He sighed. “I was wondering if you…” He frowned.   
  
“Javert–”   
  
“I want to have sex with you.” Javert said matter-of-factly.   
  
Valjean’s reaction had several steps, which were as follows: first, he froze with his mouth slightly open and his eyes locked on Javert. Then, his eyes widened just a little, then a lot. After this, he turned very pale. Next, he swallowed with great difficulty, and made a noise that may have been an attempt at speech.   
  
“I am sorry for my brashness, but I am quite inexperienced in this area. However, I have no problem recognizing that I am aroused by you and that I desire you. I have noticed that you seem to care about me a lot, and often compliment me. Today, I noticed you staring at me when I took my shirt off, and that leads me to believe you feel similarly to me. Hence, I shall ask you; would you like to have sex with me?”   
  
Valjean had turned bright red and had placed a hand in front of his mouth. “J–Javert…” he finally managed to say.   
  
The inspector sighed. “Yes, I know, it’s sudden. Would you prefer to take me out to dinner first?”   
  
“Javert, I… What…” Valjean’s hand now clutched at the towel around his shoulders, and his wide eyes dropped to the floor. “That’s… I’m very sorry, but I– I can’t…”   
  
“You can’t? Why? You’re not in a relationship, are you?” Javert asked, genuinely worried.   
  
“No, but–”   
  
“You’re clearly not straight,” Javert said, “And you’re clearly interested in me. Why say no?”   
  
“Javert, that’s– That’s unethical. Illegal, perhaps. I can’t– I can’t have– I can’t. With students. Can’t– with a student. You know? It’s not– right.” Valjean said this all very fast, a forced smile giving him an almost manic look.   
  
Javert frowned. “No one will know. It would just be once. A hookup.”   
  
Valjean shook his head. “No, I– That’s against the rules. I– I can’t. Nope. I’m not allowed to do anything with my students. And I’m not going to break that rule. I’m done breaking rules. I’ve changed. I might’ve– Back then– No, I don’t mean– Well, you know. Now, I… It’s just that… Well, I– I… I don’t want– I can’t– I…” Valjean stood up suddenly. “I have to go. Sorry. Bye, Javert.”   
  
And, just like that, Valjean was gone in a flash. Javert barely saw him walk towards the door before it was closed in his face.   
  
Sweet Jesus, Javert had never heard so many words out of Valjean’s mouth in his entire lifetime. It took him a solid minute of sitting there, staring at the empty space Valjean had been occupying a few moments ago, to realize Valjean had said no.   
  
Valjean had rejected him.   
  
Javert pressed his head into his hands. He had been wrong…   
  
What had he done?   
  
Jean Valjean was extraordinary. Javert had always known this. Jean Valjean was extraordinarily strong, stubborn, stoic. He had been since Toulon. He still was all of this now, though he used these traits for different things. In Toulon, he was strong enough to lift four times what most men could, stubborn enough to never bend to authority, stoic enough to never show weakness. Now, Jean Valjean was strong enough to hold himself in any yoga pose imaginable, stubborn enough to stick to his morals, stoic enough to do so through any adversity. Valjean had always been a passionate man, too. Passionately angry back then, now passionately joyful. The passion of a man who had found his purpose.   
  
Perhaps people don’t change after all. They only shift direction. Valjean had always had the traits that made him a wonderful yoga teacher now had made him a dangerous criminal in the past. He only needed that change of direction.   
  
Just like Javert had always been obsessive, perverted, and delusional. He had obsessed over Jean Valjean in both of his forms, had thought perverted thoughts of each incarnation, and had been deluded about each; that 24601 would always be dangerous, and that Jean Valjean could ever want him.   
  
Javert felt humiliated. He had once thought himself far above Jean Valjean. He then believed them to be equals. Now, however, Javert understood. Valjean was far above him. Valjean was a saint, Javert was a sinner. Valjean was a teacher, Javert his lowliest pupil. Valjean was the sun, and Javert was but a little tiny asteroid that had been caught in his orbit like a fly in a spider web.   
  
He was no better than Garreth.   
  
He was no better, in fact, than the ground Valjean walked on.

Javert went home then. He removed his clothes and let his hair down– not without thinking of the man who had styled his hair in the first place – and took a cold shower. He washed himself with more aggression than usual, wishing to rid himself of both sweat and sin. Perhaps the water would wash away his sin and his desire.

But no, his desires were like sunburns on unprotected skin, blatant reminders of his mistakes and of his foolishness. The thought of Valjean burned at him, and he felt…

And he felt. He felt more than he thought he ever could.

He felt more than he had when he lost 24601. He had felt only the most minor form of loss then; an “oh, well” sort of feeling.

Now, well…

He felt like he’d lost everything, sent it far away.

The last 9 weeks had been driven by Jean Valjean. The man had been his obsession, his driving force. And now it was gone. The sun had set in his world and the stars were insufficient to light his way. The stars that he had followed his whole life meant nothing now if there was no sun.  
  
He could not wake up to a day with no sun. There was no day without it. The next week of his life was a bleak, desolate night with no stars and no moon. The darkness swallowed him and he felt that he had lost more than just a potential sexual partner. It was as if he had lost everything.   
  
And why? It wasn’t as if he had known this new Jean Valjean for all that long. 9 weeks was not enough time, really, to account for how much he seemed to need the man. It didn’t account for how this rejection crushed him to the bone.   
  
Perhaps it was the added humiliation of being incorrect, of having bared his feelings so obviously to someone and to be cast aside. And all from a man he admired so much as Jean Valjean…   
  
A man whose very existence defied reason. A man who was a criminal but became a yoga teacher. A man who cared about all of his students. A kind, gentle, saintly, beautiful man.   
  
How had Javert thought Valjean would want him? How had he even allowed himself to believe that the epitome of perfection would desire a failure such as he? A look meant nothing. Kindness meant nothing. It was all in Javert’s head.   
  
He had insulted Valjean with such a proposition. He had hurt and embarrassed himself, yes, but more importantly, Valjean. Such a saintly man didn’t deserve to hear such words spoken to him. He deserved love, he deserved someone as perfect as he.   
  
He deserved love, and Javert couldn’t give love.   
  
Javert could only offer him the basest of passions, the lowliest form of care.   
  
And yet…   
  
The ache in his heart had never felt so strong. A hand in a metal gauntlet had gripped his beating heart and refused to let go. He tried to work, he tried to sleep, he tried to distract himself, and the hand gripped tighter.   
  
His boss was disappointed with him now. Over the past weeks, Javert, though distracted, had still performed far better than most everyone else. That was simply how Javert was. Now, however… Now, with the weight of rejection heavy on his shoulders and clouding his mind, he was struggling.

He had fallen, he had landed, and he had crashed through the ground. He was so heavy with sin that he had sunk through the whole planet and had broken out the other side, and now he was drifting through space. He was floating away and he knew not where to; in the darkness, everywhere was the same. He searched for his guiding stars, but they had gone dim. The sun was nowhere to be found. He was lost, he was gone, and he knew not if he would ever touch solid ground again.  
  
It was Saturday morning. That meant something to him. The fact that it was 9:30 and he still lay unmoving in his dark room meant something as well.   
  
Why go to class? Valjean didn’t want to see him, and seeing Valjean would only tighten the evil hand’s grip on his heart. He never wanted to think about Valjean ever again.   
  
But he couldn’t avoid it. Guilt gnawed at his conscience like a pack of hungry rats.   
  
Perhaps he could go to his private lesson today and apologize to Valjean.   
  
That was something. That was respectable and good. Perhaps Valjean would understand that Javert knew he had sinned and deeply regretted doing so. Perhaps Valjean would feel better as a result. Perhaps Javert himself would find solace. Maybe apologizing to Valjean would clear his conscience.   
  
Maybe, just maybe, he could be free from the wicked hand’s grip on his heart. Maybe he could work again.   
  
The thought filled him with hope. He extracted himself from his bed, ate a small breakfast, and made himself presentable. Perhaps he spent a little longer on his hair than he would have usually, and perhaps the clothes he picked to wear were a little less casual than they could have been.   
  
This was only because he wanted Valjean to know that Javert took this apology seriously. It was not a final effort to make Valjean like him. Not at all.   
  
It was 10:40 when he arrived at the academy. There was no one there, except for Fantine at the reception desk. She looked up when Javert entered, her eyes widening.   
  
“Javert!” she called out, “You’re late.”   
  
“I know,” he replied. “Where’s–”   
  
“–Jean’s in the private lesson room. He’s in a horrible mood, though. I’ve never seen him so– Okay, then. Bye.”   
  
Javert rushed to the second room in the left hallway and knocked twice.


	12. Now, Here, Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *alarm goes off*
> 
> SMUT ALERT! SMUT ALERT!
> 
> This is the FIRST TIME I've EVER written and posted smut!! I am a virgin and I don't have a penis, so I don't know what I'm doing! Hence, this is probably REALLY BAD! You have been warned!
> 
> But it's about time this happened in this fic. You can just skip the smut section and imagine actually hot sex in your head instead of what I threw together. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Yes?” A monotone voice answered. 

Javert opened the door.

“Javert?” Valjean asked incredulously, eyes wide.

The inspector shut the door behind himself. “Yes, I felt I needed to–”

“Oh, thank God! I was worried that you wouldn't come back, but when you were late for your lesson, I was…” Valjean had rushed towards the younger man and placed his hands on Javert’s shoulders. He stepped back, looking down. “I was worried I’d never have the chance to apologize to you.”

Javert was puzzled. “You? Apologize? Whatever for? It is I who should apologize, Mister Valjean. That’s precisely why I came here.”

“All you did was ask me something.”

“All you did was say no.”

Valjean sighed. “No, I didn't just say no. I freaked out and I probably broke your heart.”

“And I didn't just ask you something, I asked you something that I have no right to ask. I disrespected you and humiliated you. I assumed you would stoop so low as to want me, and I accused you of having feelings you did not have. I am the one who is in the wrong. I only hope that you can forgive me.”

Valjean was silent for a moment. “That’s not it, Javert. You were right last week. You have very good instincts, you know? You recognized that I was Jean Valjean, and you recognized that I… That I am interested in you.”

Javert's eyebrows shot up, then he scoffed, grinning sardonically. “Very funny, Mister Valjean. Very funny indeed.”   
  
“I’m not joking, Javert. It’s the truth.”   
  
“I don’t believe it.”   
  
“You did last week.”   
  
“Last week I… I must have gone crazy because of the heat.”   
  
“Javert. I am attracted to you, and I do want to… I do want…”   
  
“What about you being my teacher, then?”   
  
“The lessons are finished for the term. You are no longer my student.”

“Fine, then. But if you do want me, you’ve gone crazy yourself. You can do far better than me.”   
  
Valjean frowned. “Javert, please… We don’t have to do this.”   
  
“And you don’t have to have sex with me. You could have sex with just about anyone, you know. You’re far more desirable than I could ever hope to be.”   
  
“I don’t want anyone else, Javert. You’re special to me.” Valjean looked down at his toes. “You make me laugh like no one else does, and you’re so different than anyone I’ve ever known. I can’t stop thinking about you.”   
  
Javert blushed. Why was he blushing at such silly, sentimental words? “Really?”   
  
“Yes. But I was so flustered last week when you asked me that I… I didn’t know what to say or do. It’s true that we couldn’t have done anything while we still had that professional tie, but truly, it was more than that. I don’t believe in casual hookups. I’ve always thought sex should be something more than that. But I have these feelings for you anyway, and I know you don’t do relationships, so I’ve decided... “ He looked up to Javert once more. “I have decided that I will be grateful for anything you are willing to give me.”   
  
Javert felt the hand gripping his heart seize it tightly for a moment before letting go altogether. He was… happy. “Really? So you want to…”   
  
“Yes, Javert. I want to,” Valjean said, touching Javert’s shoulders.    
  
There was so much left unsaid. How long had he felt this way? Why did he want Javert at all? But Javert couldn’t ask any of them with Valjean so close to him.    
  
“Is… is here alright? I don’t have time to take you to my place…” Valjean asked.    
  
Javert’s heart leapt. “You want to… now?”   
  
“Do you want to wait?”   
  
“...No.”   
  
“Then yes, now. Here. Together.” Valjean was blushing as he looked up at Javert, a kind of pleading look in his eye. 

Javert nodded. “Yes.”   
  
Valjean locked the door and pulled Javert further into the room. “No one will disturb us. Not if we’re done in…” Valjean checked his watch. “Less than 20 minutes.”   
  
Javert laughed. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”   
  
Valjean lifted his hands to Javert’s neck and touched the first button of his shirt. “May I?” he asked timidly.   
  
“Obviously.”   
  
The older man blushed as he undid Javert’s buttons. “Sorry, I’m… This is my first time.”   
  
“Really?” Javert asked, truly incredulous.   
  
“Yeah,” said Valjean bashfully.   
  
“Mine too.”   
  
Valjean smiled. “So it’ll be new for us both, then.”    
  
Javert’s shirt was unbuttoned, and Valjean pushed it over his shoulders until it fell off onto the floor. Valjean regarded him in awe for a moment, hands hovering awkwardly as if he wasn’t sure he could touch. Finally, Valjean placed his palms flat on Javert’s chest and rubbed down his torso, simply learning the feel of Javert’s skin.    
  
“I d-don’t know what I’m doing,” Valjean admitted, “But you’re gorgeous.”   
  
“I’m hideous.,” Javert scoffed.    
  
“Stop this at once,” Valjean said. He turned Javert so that they were both facing the mirror side of the room. “Do you not see?”   
  
“I see an ugly man standing next to a very handsome one,” Javert said.    
  
Valjean shook his head. “Gorgeous.” He walked behind the man and pulled the hair elastic out of Javert’s ponytail. He ran his fingers through Javert’s long locks. “Gorgeous.” Valjean slid his arms around Javert’s waist and hugged him from behind. “Gorgeous.”   
  
Javert sighed. “Valjean…”   
  
“Please, call me Jean!” he asked yet again.    
  
“Sorry,  _ Jean _ .”   
  
Valjean hummed a little in thanks and kissed Javert’s shoulder blade. “I am allowed to kiss you, right?”   
  
Javert thought for a moment. Kisses meant love, but kisses could be sexual as well. This was alright. “Please do.”    
  
Valjean walked back in front of him and held onto his shoulders, standing on his toes to press his lips to Javert’s.    
  
And,  _ oh,  _ it was more beautiful than Javert could have ever imagined. The gentle touch of Valjean’s soft lips against his sent him reeling. Fireworks went off in his head and his heart seemed to beat out of his chest. He reached tentative arms around Valjean, pulling him closer, ever closer. His hands snuck under Valjean’s t-shirt to feel the warm, soft skin underneath. At this touch, it seemed like the both of them moaned at once, and they broke the kiss. Javert was already gasping. Valjean, being in such good shape, still maintained control over his breath, but Javert could not miss his flushed cheeks or his blown-out pupils. Javert pulled uselessly on the bottom of Valjean’s shirt until the man got the idea and removed his own shirt.    
  
Javert swallowed thickly. “God, you look incredible,” he muttered.   
  
“Don’t use the Lord’s name in vain, Javert.”   
  
“I’m sure he understands. It’s what you do to me.” Javert ran hungry hands over Valjean’s chest and his abs, feeling the rock solid muscle, hard as steel but with skin warm and alive with desire. “Hot yoga last week damn near drove me insane. Having to look but not touch…”   
  
“I wasn’t much better. You saw the look I had when you took off your shirt…” Valjean admitted.   
  
“All that time, all I could think of was doing this…” Javert leaned down and pressed his lips to Valjean’s collarbone.   
  
Valjean whimpered. “Ah, Javert... “   
  
Javert pulled back. “Would you like to have me now?”   
  
Valjean nodded breathlessly. The two men found their way to the wooden floor in a tangle of limbs that was far from elegant; neither of them wanted to completely stop touching the other. Javert unceremoniously removed his pants and underwear, tossing them out of the way. Valjean was immobile on the ground, staring in shock at Javert’s nudity as if he hadn’t expected it.    
  
“Oh, my…” the man said softly.    
  
“What?” Javert looked down at himself. “I know I’m not much to look at, but seriously.”   
  
Valjean shook his head. “Beautiful. You’re so… So beautiful.”    
  
Javert ignored the way his heart ached deliciously at Valjean’s breathless compliments. He tugged down Valjean’s shorts impatiently. He could see it clearly enough with Valjean’s shorts on, but without that extra layer, it was blatantly, obscenely obvious that the man was completely erect and that he was absolutely massive. Javert couldn't resist– didn't have to resist, now– touching the large shape with light fingers, massaging the bulge in the older man’s underwear. Valjean panted and whimpered a little.

“Please…” Valjean begged, his voice scarcely sounding.

Javert yanked down Valjean’s underwear and almost choked at the sight of the man’s cock bobbing free. It was breathtaking, somehow. A penis should not be breathtaking, Javert knew, but this one… this one was Valjean’s. And it was so monstrously huge that it was almost frightening, but not more than it was arousing. Javert took it in his hand, drawing a high pitched moan from Valjean, and began to stroke slowly, up and down, just to get the feel for it. It wasn't too unlike touching his own cock, he realized. The angle was reversed and his own prick wasn't nearly as large, but this wasn't completely alien to him, either. Valjean was enjoying it, too; the man was biting on his lip and his face was screwed in pleasure. Javert stopped. 

“May I have it inside of me?”

Valjean hummed softly. “Please, Javert…”

Javert’s erection twitched at this. Yes, he had wanted it for so long… And he was finally going to get it. He frowned, though, suddenly thinking of something. “Do you have any lube, Jean?”

“What?” The man asked, mind obviously hazy from all that was happening. 

“Lube. Or lotion, or anything. So that your massive cock doesn't hurt me.”

Valjean blushed. “Oh… Um…” he thought for a moment. “I don't have anything. Not in here. Perhaps in my office, but I can't… not like this.”

Javert sighed. “Oh, well. There are still plenty of other things we can do.”

Valjean’s hand stroked Javert’s thigh absently. “Yes, there are. What do you have in mind?”

Javert watched the hand on his thigh until he felt mesmerized and had to look away. He thought of something. “You know, the night after my first lesson with you, I Googled you. I wanted to find some information about your past. Instead I found your YouTube channel. I watched a video called… what was it? Something about hips? In that video, you did all kinds of things involving spreading your legs. I couldn't help but notice how large your cock was, and I had to stop watching so that I could touch myself.”

Valjean listened, interested. “Are you suggesting that I… recreate that video for you now?”

“Not all of it, just the most interesting part. You know, when you put your leg over your shoulder and got into that crazy pose?”   
  
Valjean blushed. “And you want me to do that... nude?”   
  
Javert grinned. “Obviously.”   
  
Valjean rubbed his neck. “Oh, goodness… This will be…”   
  
“Very hot, Jean.” Valjean looked at him, still aroused, but his eyes betrayed his nervousness. “Well,” Javert said, “you don’t have to. It was just an idea.”   
  
“I will try it,” Valjean said. “May I at least use a mat?”   
  
Javert smiled. “Of course. I want you to be comfortable.”   
  
Valjean removed his shorts and underwear, which were still around his ankles. He got up and retrieved his yoga mat, which he unrolled and placed in the middle of the room, beside Javert. He took a deep breath and sat down on it.    
  
“I have never done yoga naked before, either,” Valjean said.   
  
“I am excited to see your first attempt.”   
  
Valjean lifted his left leg onto his shoulder. Javert watched in awe at the fluidity of the motion, of how easily his body moved. His breath caught as he saw that massive cock sway and bob with the movement.    
  
“Fuck, Jean…” he breathed.   
  
“Goodness, I can’t– I don’t think I can get my leg up with you staring at… With you staring like that, Javert,” Valjean complained.    
  
“It’s alright. But I think you can do it.”   
  
Valjean took another deep breath, grabbed onto his foot and slowly, not without some effort, straightened his leg. He breathed deeply, leaning on his right hand for balance. His right arm was shaking, and not because he couldn’t hold his own body weight. He whimpered.   
  
Javert was almost drooling at the sight; Valjean in this inhuman pose, his body bare and his massive cock standing free, straining.    
  
“Javert… How much longer must I stay like this?” Valjean asked.   
  
“You can stop if you want, but I’d love for you to stay in this position a little longer while I touch you.”   
  
Valjean moaned. “Oh, Javert, please don’t make me stay like this while you… Oh, mercy!”   
  
Javert had already grabbed a hold of Valjean’s cock and began to stroke it slowly. Valjean grunted as his whole body strained to keep himself in the pose, keep himself balanced.    
  
Javert’s body was alight with arousal at the scene. He swallowed. “You’re incredible, Jean. This is incredible.”   
  
Valjean made a choked moan, and began to grit his teeth. Javert stroked faster, and he cried out. He finally couldn’t hold the pose anymore; his leg fell back onto his shoulder and he whined.    
  
“It’s alright. Your legs are spread beautifully enough like this.” He continued to stroke Valjean’s cock.   
  
Valjean was looking away, transfixed. Javert realized Valjean was looking in the mirror. He looked as well, and he flushed dark red.    
  
“Fuck…” Javert whispered. The scene in the mirror was beyond lewd; Valjean with his leg tossed over his shoulder and Javert clutching the man’s swollen prick. He began to stroke faster, faster still.    
  
Valjean cried out, his hips rocking forwards and backwards involuntarily. “Oh, Javert, oh  _ please,  _ Javert!”   
  
The heavy cock in his hand was leaking precome and the body attatched to it was sweating, heaving. Javert stroked faster, harder, his other hand joining to play with the balls that hung swollen and full behind Valjean’s erection. The man cried out again,  louder, and without warning, climaxed with a formidable spurt of semen. 

Javert froze at this, eyes widening in awe. Valjean looked so beautifully debauched, his eyes closed in bliss. He finally removed his leg from his shoulder and sat cross-legged. “Javert, that was… Unbelievable. Amazing.”

Javert nodded. “It… it was.”

“May I touch you now?” Valjean asked.

“Yes. Please touch me.”

Valjean stood and walked a few paces until he was behind Javert. He sat down so that Javert was directly in front of him. Javert sighed in contentment as he felt the solid muscled chest press against his back. Valjean’s right hand snuck around his body and rested just below his navel.

Javert’s eyes snapped up and he met Valjean’s gaze in the mirror. Valjean  _ smiled. _

With a choked whimper, Javert spread his legs. He had only just done this when Valjean’s hand wrapped around his cock and began to stroke slowly.

Javert cried out; he wanted to close his eyes, but he did not want to look away from the mirror. The very sight of Valjean’s large, pale hand around his stiff prick was entrancing. And the feeling… Despite the fact that he had touched himself in this way countless times, this was new. This was new and unique and incomparably good. The solid warmth of Valjean’s body behind him was intoxicating, and the calloused hand that stroked his cock in gentle motions was giving him more pleasure than he thought possible for him to feel. He realized that he had been moaning softly for quite some time.

Valjean was still smiling. “Is this good, Javert?” 

The younger man nodded. Valjean continued smiling at him for a moment before he softly pressed his mouth to the very base of Javert’s neck. Javert sighed at the feeling, tilting his head to the side to allow Valjean to kiss him more. Valjean did so; the man’s soft lips trailed up and down Javert’s neck before settling somewhere in the middle and stopping in an open-mouthed kiss.    
  
Javert cried out, hips beginning to twitch and rock into Valjean’s hand. He watched himself in the mirror, panting hard and flushed dark, eyes wild and hair flowing free. And Valjean was calm and still behind him, the only movement was that of his hand on Javert’s cock and his mouth on Javert’s neck. He whimpered again.   
  
Valjean looked up to meet Javert’s eyes in the mirror. “Please, Javert…” he asked softly, “If this is the only time I will ever be with you, please… say my name. Let me hear you say my name.”   
  
Javert’s stomach did a flip, both at the words and at the earnestness with which they were said. “Jean…” he whispered. “Jean,  _ oh, Jean… _ ”   
  
Valjean closed his eyes and pressed his lips back against Javert’s neck, his strokes to the younger man’s cock speeding up. Javert gasped.   
  
“Jean, please!” his voice was louder now, a broken cry of pleasure. “Oh, fuck, Jean! Jean Valjean….”   
  
Javert felt teeth press against his neck, and he came in a strangled cry. The warm, solid body around him held him tightly and rocked him very slowly back and forth.   
  
In a moment, Javert opened his eyes. Valjean’s head rested on the inspector’s shoulder and his arms were around Javert’s chest. Javert’s heart ached again, but in the most exquisite way it had yet. He shuddered at the feeling of warmth and longing that filled him.   
  
Valjean looked up at this, and met Javert’s eyes in the mirror once more. He was smiling, but his expression was full of wistfulness and satisfaction.    
  
“How was that, Javert?”   
  
“That was…” Perfect. More than perfect. The most wonderful experience of his life thus far. “That was deeply satisfactory. I enjoyed that, thank you.”   
  
Valjean nodded. “I thank you as well.”   
  
“Were we quick enough?” Javert asked.   
  
Valjean removed his arms from Javert’s body – a considerable loss, Javert thought – and checked his watch, which he was for some reason still wearing.    
  
“Hmm. My Fitbit is concerned I exerted myself too much,” Valjean muttered with a little chuckle.   
  
Ah, not a watch, then. But why would someone who makes their living doing exercise need a Fitbit?   
  
“It’s 11:10… Oh, dear.” Valjean stood up and looked around. “And we’ve made such a mess! Oh, no…” He frowned, and looked back to Javert. “You get dressed and go, and I’ll stay to take care of this. Hopefully Fantine won’t suspect anything… No, she’s not that kind of person. It’ll be alright.” Valjean reached a hand out to Javert. The man took it and Valjean pulled him up. Immediately after doing this, he gathered Javert’s clothes and tossed them at the inspector, who took the cue to begin dressing.   
  
“I’m sorry to rush you like this. It’s not because I want you gone or anything, believe me,” apologized Valjean, finding his own clothes.   
  
“I understand, Valjean. Do not worry.” Javert dressed very quickly as he noticed Valjean himself was getting dressed at a breakneck speed.   
  
When Javert was done, he cleared his throat. “Well, uh… I suppose I’ll be off, then.”   
  
Valjean turned back around. His t-shirt was on backwards and his hair was a mess, but Javert said nothing. “Wait,” Valjean told him. “Before you go… I just want to get something from my office real quick, okay? Don’t go, please.”   
  
Javert nodded, and Valjean was gone in a flash. Javert sighed. He didn’t even know how he was feeling right now. The best way to describe it, though, was “content”. He looked in the mirror again. He looked like a mess, truly. He was flushed and his pupils were enlarged, and his hair was still down… He saw his hair tie on the ground and quickly arranged it into a low ponytail.   
  
Valjean walked in. “Hey, um, Javert, I know this was just a one-time thing, but if you ever want to do this again…” he said this very quickly, as if he had rehearsed this line several times before saying this, and held out a small white rectangle to Javert.   
  
The inspector took it. “Your business card?”   
  
“I, uh, wrote my cell phone number on the back. You can call me – or text me, it really doesn’t matter – if you, uh want to... “ Valjean was looking down, his cheeks flushed.    
  
Javert turned the card around. It had a phone number on it written clearly in black pen, and something else next to it that was thoroughly scribbled out. Javert nodded. “Perhaps I will.” He looked back at the older man. “Well, thank you. Good day, Valjean.”   
  
It seemed that Valjean’s smile had a tinge of sadness in it. “Bye, Javert.”   
  
Javert awkwardly slid by the other man to leave the room. He inhaled deeply– he hadn’t realized how the small room now smelled like sex until he took a breath of fresh air – and he began to walk away.   
  
“Hey, Javert!” Fantine greeted. 

Javert stopped and smiled at her, hoping she would indeed not suspect anything.    
  
“Is Jean happier now?” she asked.    
  
“I do believe his mood is now… considerably better, yes.”   
  
“How was the sex?”   
  
Javert tried very hard not to react, but he did blush.. “What? What the hell are you talking about?”   
  
“Well, you were in there for quite some time, and you’ve obviously been doing some kind of physical activity; you’ve gone all red, your hair’s a mess… And I know you removed at least your shirt, because when you came in here, your shirt was impeccable, and now, the buttons are done up incorrectly.”   
  
Javert looked down at himself and noticed that the buttons were indeed messed up. “Damn,” he said under his breath.   
  
“Plus, you’ve got a hickey.”   
  
Javert’s eyes widened and he pressed his hand to the side of his neck Valjean’s mouth had touched.   
  
“And, my most definite piece of evidence… Well, that room isn’t soundproof.”   
  
Javert turned bright red. “Fuck... There’s no one else here, right?”   
  
“Just me,” Fantine said.    
  
“Well, at least it was just you.”   
  
Fantine smiled. “Well, you didn’t answer me. How was it?”   
  
“Why should I tell you?” Javert grumbled.   
  
She shrugged and looked down. “You don’t have to. I’m only curious. You know, I’m surprised it happened. I figured you two would end up a couple, but not like this.”   
  
“We’re not a  _ couple, _ ” Javert said, “It was only a hookup.”   
  
Fantine looked incredulously at Javert. “A  _ hookup?  _ No! Valjean doesn’t  _ do  _ hookups.”   
  
“And I don’t  _ do  _ relationships,” Javert said. “Valjean told me that he would gratefully take anything I would offer, and so we decided on this.”   
  
Fantine shook her head. “That’s fascinating. Valjean likes you even more than I knew.”   
  
Javert couldn’t respond.   
  
“Are you going to keep doing this?”   
  
“He gave me his cell phone number,” Javert said, feeling the business card practically burning a hole in his pocket.    
  
“Are you going to call him?”   
  
Javert looked out the window. “Perhaps.”   
  
“So the sex was good, then.”   
  
The inspector sighed. “It was… It was amazing. It wasn’t even really sex– he didn’t have lube– but it was truly… Perfect.”   
  
Fantine was silent for a moment, then she laughed. “I can’t wait to tell Garreth.”   
  
Javert looked back at the woman and suddenly remembered. Garreth. He’d forgotten all about Garreth… He’d won. He’d won their little competition. He slowly broke out into a grin, and then was laughing right along with Fantine. “Oh, the look on his stupid face will be glorious!”   
  
Full of satisfaction and pride, Javert spent the rest of the day still feeling very, very content. He was able to work again, and that night he was able to sleep soundly for the first time in weeks.    
  
The next morning, Javert woke up, feeling refreshed, renewed. He was no longer in pain. The ache in his heart was gone, all gone.   
  
His plan had worked; he could finally move on.   
  
He was free. He was done.    
  
Before he went to work on Sunday, he took a look at the business card Valjean had given him the day before. He turned it over and looked at the carefully written digits.    
  
“Thank you, Jean Valjean,” he whispered to the card. “Thank you, and goodbye.”   
  
He ripped the card in half and threw it in the trash, and went on his way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAHA 
> 
> I'm really sorry


	13. Out of My Dreams and Into Your Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one...   
> Title comes from the Oklahoma! song.

Javert was happy. Well, as happy as Javert could be. More accurately, he continued to feel contentment and satisfaction. He could sleep again, he could work again; perhaps with even more efficiency than he ever had. His boss was happy with him, relieved that his best inspector was once again firing on all thrusters.    
  
The next Saturday was a little difficult for Javert. Out of habit, he got up at 6:30 and almost went to get dressed in his workout clothes before he remembered that he’d closed that chapter of his life.   
  
It was a little sad, perhaps. Saturdays had indeed become his favourite day of the week, or at least the most exciting. He found that he missed Jean Valjean.   
  
For the first time since last week, he allowed himself to truly revisit his encounter with Valjean. He recalled with something akin to gratitude the gentleness Valjean had shown him, and the bliss he had felt touching and being touched by the older man. It had truly been wonderful. Javert remembered as well how much Valjean seemed to truly care for him. All the smiles and the laughs and the touches and kisses… The number written on the back of Valjean’s business card. Javert remembered the look in the man’s warm brown eyes after he gave the inspector his number. He remembered Valjean’s sad smile… Perhaps the man truly wanted Javert to call him.    
  
But it really didn’t matter. Valjean, after all, didn’t believe in casual sex. He had probably come to regret his decision, and Javert calling him would only make him feel worse. And Javert felt better now. His obsession with Valjean was gone, and he no longer suffered under the crushing weight of heartache and sexual frustration.    
  
Again, that chapter of his life had closed. He had disposed of that business card, and he didn’t regret it one bit.    
  
A few days later, he dreamt of Jean Valjean. He dreamt of sunshine and warm skin and solid muscles, of hands gently holding his body. There were soft lips on his skin and soft words whispered in his ear. At some point, Javert could see Valjean clearly, could see that he was nude. They were in a bedroom, white and clean, and bright light shone over them, softening the edges of Valjean’s robust, solid form. Valjean’s eyes were kind and his arms were outstretched when he asked Javert to come to him. Javert obeyed; there was nothing he wanted more than to do so. The bed was as soft as a cloud and Valjean’s body was warm and Javert was lost in bliss. Valjean held him close, pressing them skin to skin. Valjean praised him, muttered sweet nothings into his neck, intermingled with the lightest of kisses. Javert was gasping and sighing in his arms, clutching onto Valjean’s broad shoulders to keep himself from falling away…   
  
If it all felt too good to be true, then it was, Javert realized– he woke up to the sound of his alarm, alone and feeling dreadfully needy.   
  
Javert ignored the dream. Dreams, no matter what his gypsy relatives would say, meant nothing whatsoever. Brain junk; that’s all it was.    
  
How the dream made him  _ feel,  _ however…   
  
He ignored that, too.   
  
A few nights later, Valjean visited his unconscious mind yet again, this time back in prison. Javert, in his guard’s uniform, walked by 24601’s cell, only to be grabbed by strong arms and calloused hands. The prisoner forced him down, but there was no need to do so. Javert submitted himself willingly as 24601 took him roughly against the metal bars.    
  
Javert woke that morning in a cold sweat. He had not had a dream like that in a very long time. He had thought he no longer wanted such a thing. That was a thing of the past. Telling himself that he no longer wanted it made it easier to ignore that dream.   
  
The next weeks went on in this manner, any thought or dream of Jean Valjean explained away, ignored, suppressed.   
  
That was, until Javert dreamed of something very different.    
  
It was nighttime, and Javert was looking out his bedroom window, except the view was different; he could see the night sky, stretching out for miles and miles. And there were stars, stars as far as he could see, stars that he had never seen before, bright and brilliant and beautiful.    
  
Strong arms wrapped around his waist. Javert didn't have to look around to know it was Valjean. He touched the arms that were around him.

“Such a beautiful view,” Valjean said softly, voice low.

“It is indeed,” Javert replied.

Valjean kissed his shoulder through his shirt; once, twice, then a third time, lingering. “You’re just as beautiful.”   
  
“That’s not true.”   
  
“It is,” Valjean muttered. “And I will keep on telling you that you’re beautiful until you believe it.”   
  
Javert scoffed. “No matter how many times you repeat a falsehood, it will still be a falsehood.”   
  
“The fact that you still call it a falsehood means I have not yet said it enough.” He paused. “Beautiful.”   
  
Javert sighed. “You’re a such a flatterer, Jean.”   
  
“Only for you.”   
  
The two men stared out the window for a long moment, watching the stars twinkle and shine in the sky.    
  
“Javert…” Valjean said at last.   
  
“Yes?”   
  
The man let go of Javert for a moment and stood beside him, holding his hand. The starlight sparkled in Valjean’s eyes in such a gorgeous way. “I need to tell you something.”   
  
“What is it?”   
  
Valjean smiled at him. “I love you, Javert.”   
  
Javert’s heart skipped a beat. “You do?”   
  
Valjean nodded and kissed the back of Javert’s hand. “I do. I love you very, very much.”   
  
Javert swallowed. “I love you, too, Jean.”   
  
Then Valjean was standing on his toes to kiss Javert, and they kissed with so much tenderness and passion that Javert thought he would melt. They kissed and they kissed and when Javert eventually woke up, he could almost taste Valjean on his lips.    
  
_ Love.  _ The realization that that stupid phrase had entered his dream shocked him to the core.    
  
Not love! Not love, it couldn’t be! He hated love. Love was stupid and useless. Love was a combination of chemicals, and all the meaning attached to it was useless, irrelevant. It was all fake. Why would he dream of such horror? And why did his heart ache so, so badly now; even harder than it had before?   
  
It wasn’t love. It was anything but love, because Javert did not  _ fall in love.  _   
  
But what was it, then?   
  
Why was his heart aching, why was he missing Valjean – more and more with every passing day, why was he longing to see the man again? Why did he want nothing more than to be with Valjean, and not only in a sexual sense; he wanted to see Valjean smile, hear his laugh, bask in his light and his warmth once again. His mind was once again consumed by thoughts of Valjean, and whenever he thought of him, his stomach was filled with swarms upon swarms of butterflies. Why?    
  
What was happening to him, and how was he to stop it?   
  
The most puzzling thing, Javert thought, was that he did not really  _ want  _ to stop it. No matter how much pain and anguish he was in, he almost enjoyed it, in a way. Thinking about Jean Valjean was the most exquisite way to pass the time, even though his daydreams were always followed by the stinging truth that he wouldn’t see Valjean again.   
  
And this was out of his own choice, he remembered. He was the one who decided to throw out that business card instead of calling Valjean. He could have had Valjean, he really could have, but instead, he’d simply tossed the card away like an idiot. Why? Did he simply want to suffer? Did he have masochistic tendencies that he was only now discovering?   
  
It was pitiful, really, that he was regretting his decision. He had truly thought he was free from this obsession with Valjean. But he’d been wrong. It was as if he was trying to close his eyes and pretend it was night, though the sunlight still shone through his eyelids.   
  
It had only been a month, give or take a few days, since he’d last seen Jean Valjean, and Javert was desperate. He finally decided he  _ needed _ to see Valjean again.   
  
But how? The infamous business card had been ripped and tossed away into a trash bag that had been taken out many days ago. How was he supposed to contact Valjean?    
  
By some ungodly hour of that night, Javert was feeling tired and desperate enough to visit the “contact us” page of the yoga academy’s website. He sent the following email to jean@jmya.com:

> Jean “Madeleine”,   
>    
>  I unfortunately lost your telephone number before I had the chance to enter it into my phone.    
>    
>  Thus, I am contacting you via email. I hope this message finds you well.   
>    
>  In any case, I would like to take you up on your offer from a month ago, if it still stands.    
>    
>  Have a pleasant evening.   
>    
>  Inspector Javert

Javert was at work the next day, writing a report, when he got an email notification. He was initially shocked and confused to see that he had received an email from “jean@jmya.com”; he had forgotten that he had ever sent the message. Once he remembered, though, he became very anxious. He clicked on the email, part of him dreading what would be in it. He read it quickly.   
  


> Inspector Javert,   
>    
>  You know Jean doesn’t check this email, right? Good thing I’m his only secretary– I mean, uh, receptionist. Yeah, it’s me, Fantine.   
>    
>  Anyway, it’s about damn time you tried to contact Jean. He was in the best of moods for about a week after you guys had your little rendez-vous, but after that, it wore off. Now he’s just… sad. He’s not himself. And I’m pretty sure it’s because of you.   
>    
>  I’ll tell Jean you emailed. He’ll be over the moon.   
>    
>  Fantine   
>    
>  P.S. Garreth’s signed up for beginner hot yoga now. I see him every Wednesday evening, but I still haven’t gotten the chance to tell him you and Jean got down and dirty in the private lesson room. I’ll tell you if I ever do.

Javert stared at the email for a while before he understood. He wasn’t sure, however, how he felt about this.    
  
He would see Valjean again, though.   
  
He didn’t know how he felt about this, either.


	14. Inhale, Exhale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More! *clap* Smut! *clap*
> 
> This is it. We're so close to the end. And this chapter is so fluffy and emotional that my chest is actually hurting right now from writing it. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It was 8:30pm on a Friday, and Javert had been in the bathroom for far too long; trying on different outfits, shaving, styling and restyling his hair, staring at his reflection and contemplating his inadequacy and how to conceal it… He was too tired for this. Perhaps he should call Valjean and tell him he couldn’t come.    
  
But he couldn’t do that to Valjean, not after making the man wait for a whole month without so much as a peep from the man who’d taken his virginity at age 53. He couldn’t cancel now.    
  
Besides, he wanted so badly to see Valjean that he couldn’t convince himself he was too tired to go.    
  
Javert stared at his reflection, scowling. He was wearing a light pink button-up shirt that was several years old and the only pair of jeans he owned that didn’t make him look like he’d given up. He felt like he was trying too hard, or perhaps not hard enough. His hair was in a kind of messy bun that he hadn’t intended on making messy. He supposed it looked alright. He supposed  _ he _ looked alright. It wasn’t a date, he reminded himself yet again. His clothes would be off very shortly, anyway.    
  
Valjean had actually asked him if he wanted to go out to dinner before they retired to his bedroom. Javert had declined. He wouldn’t be courted. He wouldn’t chance falling in love. Not that it was happening, or could happen… right?   
  
Javert’s phone buzzed. He wasn’t surprised, when he picked it up to check it, that the text was from Valjean. In Valjean’s email reply to Javert (actually written by Valjean), he had given Javert his phone number again. This time, Javert didn’t “lose” it, and, ever since, they had been texting quite frequently.   
  
Javert read the text.

> Hey, Javert! :) How was work today? xx

Javert smirked a little. Valjean insisted on adding emojis and kisses to almost every text he sent. Javert slid out the keyboard on his old Samsung phone to type his response.

> Hey Jean. Work was ok. Im a little tired. How r u?

Unlike Valjean, he did not use emojis. However, he did use text speak– it was simply faster. Javert was about to put his phone down when it buzzed again.

> That’s good. :) Oh, no! You’re tired? Not too tired to come over, I hope! :/ xx

Javert frowned. He had considered it, but…

> No dont worry. Im not 2 tired 2 spend the night w/u.

The reply came very fast. 

> Phew! ‘:) I’ve really been looking forward to tonight. I would hate to have to cancel.   
>    
>  I’ve missed you a lot. <3 xx

Javert blushed. Kisses  _ and  _ a heart emoji? What did this mean? He didn’t want to even look at it. His phone buzzed again.

> Sorry, are hearts not okay? x

Javert forced himself to reply. 

> Its fine. sorry. I missed u 2. 

He stared at his reflection again and frowned. Since when had he become so  _ sentimental?  _ He looked back down at his phone when it buzzed once again. 

> :) <3   
>    
>  When do you think you’ll be leaving? xx

Ah, yes… He did actually have to leave. He had to accept that he looked alright and get in his car and drive to Valjean’s place. 

> 5 mins

Valjean’s reply:

> Yay! :D xx
> 
> See you soon, Javert I can’t wait. xx <3 :*

Kisses, a heart,  _ and  _ a kissy face emoji? What was Valjean trying to do to him?

> C u soon Jean.

Javert put his phone in his pocket. He gave one last disapproving glare to his own reflection and sighed. He turned off the light in the bathroom and left his apartment.

Javert arrived at Valjean’s apartment building twelve minutes later, and he parked outside. The building was massive, and much nicer than his own. There was even a sort of security procedure that he had to go through to get in the building; apparently a lot of important, famous people lived here.    
  
Valjean’s apartment was on the seventh floor, and Javert found it quickly. He knocked.

The door was answered almost immediately. Almost the same second that Javert and Valjean made eye contact, Valjean beamed and hugged him very tightly.

“Ah, Javert! It’s so good to see you again!”

Javert figured that his arms shouldn't just hand uselessly by his side, so he awkwardly placed his hands on the small of Valjean’s back. When Valjean pulled away, he was smiling in a way that made Javert’s heart swell and ache and want to hold the man tighter than ever.

“Please, come in!” Valjean said, ushering Javert inside. The both of them safely over the threshold, Valjean closed and locked the door.

Valjean’s apartment was very nice. It was small, because, well, it was downtown Manhattan. But it was not cramped like Javert's; it had a lot of open space. The large windows allowed natural light to stream in, although, now that it was nighttime, all the light came from electricity anyway. The apartment was also spotlessly clean and tidy, though there did not seem to be very much to tidy. There was hardly anything at all beyond the necessities in the living room: end table, couch, chairs. A flat screen TV that was several years old. Hardly any decorations, except a few pictures and paintings on the wall and on the mantle above an electric fireplace.

Valjean himself looked handsome as ever. Javert realized with a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that this was the first time he had ever seen Valjean in anything other than workout clothes or a prison jumpsuit. The older man was wearing a white button-up shirt and black dress pants. Javert felt underdressed.

“Well, this is my place. It isn't much… I paid for the location, you know? And the view…”

“Yes. It’s quite nice.” Thinking of the view reminded him of that dream he’d had. He clenched his jaw a little bit, trying to suppress that memory.

Valjean smiled at him, oblivious to his discomfort, and hugged him again. “I am so glad to see you, Javert. I know it’s foolish to say this, but… I’ve been rather miserable without you.”

“You? Miserable? I've hardly seen you without a smile.”

Valjean pulled away from the hug just enough to look the taller man in the eye. “That's because you can't see me if you're not around.”

“Surely you can be happy without me.”

Valjean smiled sadly. “Not anymore.” 

After a beat, the older man stepped back and cleared his throat. “Anyway. Javert, I know you've already eaten, but can I offer you a drink?”

Javert shook his head. “No, thank you. I'd rather… get right to it, if you don't mind.”

Valjean blushed. “Oh… okay. There's no hurry, you know…”

“I know,” Javert said, “but I’d rather not wait any longer.”   
  
Valjean smiled almost shyly. “A-alright. Uh, come with me, then.” The older man led Javert through the living room, past the kitchen, past a bathroom, and through the door at the end of the hall. He turned on a light. This room was, of course, the bedroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was small, clean, and spartan, with a large window and a good sized bed with lots of pillows. There was an en-suite bathroom and a walk-in closet. There was a desk with papers strewn all over it. The only other thing in the room was a wooden dresser upon which two silver candlesticks were perched, looking austere and rather out of place in the sparsely-furnished room.    
  
Valjean sat on the edge of the bed, looking a little nervous. Javert swallowed and approached him carefully. He had longed so much for this and was afraid he’d mess it up.   
  
“Sit down with me and kiss me,” Valjean muttered.    
  
Javert’s stomach leapt with desire and he did what Valjean asked; he sat on the bed beside the older man and planted his lips against the other man’s. Again, it was so sweet, so good, so intoxicatingly wonderful… Valjean was kissing back and wrapping strong arms around him. Javert whimpered at the feeling, and what it was doing to his heart.    
  
Valjean broke the kiss. “You alright?”   
  
“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just… A little overwhelmed.”   
  
The older man frowned. “Oh. Do you want to stop, then?”   
  
Javert’s only answer was to slam his lips to Valjean’s again, before the man could ask any more stupid questions. This time, it was Valjean who whimpered into the kiss and Javert who began to grab at the other man. They kissed with a passion that seemed almost desperate.   
  
Valjean pulled away just a little. “Lie down?”   
  
Javert scooted further back onto the bed. He felt sort of awkward… After all, he had never been on anyone else’s bed before. What was the protocol? Was there one? Based on how Valjean was following him onto the bed, he was doing it right. Valjean lay down beside where Javert was sitting, so Javert followed suit. As they lay there, Valjean grabbed onto Javert and started to kiss again; his lips and jaw and neck and back up. Javert could all but taste the desire boiling hot in Valjean, and then,  _ oh, then–  _ Valjean pushed his hips towards Javert and the younger man could feel Valjean’s erection against his thigh. Javert moaned; the sound was vulgar, and there was nothing to muffle it with. Valjean kissed his lips as if to capture what was left of the sound.    
  
Javert’s hands pulled on Valjean’s shirt, making it come untucked from his pants. Valjean finally stopped kissing Javert and he sat up, starting to unbutton his shirt. Javert watched with fascination as more and more of the man’s broad chest, already familiar to him, was exposed to his view. Finally, Valjean shrugged out of the shirt. He quickly folded it –  _ folded  _ it – and tossed it on the ground. He leaned over to get to work on Javert’s shirt as well, and when Javert’s chest was bare, he kissed it, too. Javert sighed, feeling pampered,  _ loved,  _ as Valjean’s mouth travelled down his sternum and over each pectoral. When Valjean licked one of his nipples, Javert gasped and let it out in a shaky moan.    
  
“Javert…” Valjean whispered into his skin, following it with a tiny whimper.    
  
Javert sat up to get his shirt off his shoulders and toss it away. Then he unzipped his jeans and started to get out of them. Valjean did the same after watching for a moment as if he were in a trance. He folded his pants before he threw them off the bed, but Javert just chucked them. If Valjean cared, he didn’t let it show on his face, but Javert felt like he didn’t even notice, based on how hard he was staring at the growing bulge in Javert’s underwear.    
  
“You’re stunning, Javert…” Valjean told him.    
  
Javert didn’t want to open up this argument, not now. Everything was too perfect now. “You are too, Valjean.”   
  
Valjean held Javert by the shoulders and scooted towards the younger man until their bodies were touching. Softly, gently, he nudged his erection into Javert’s. When the inspector moaned under his breath, Valjean kept it up, his hip rolling so that their bulges frotted against each other pleasantly. Javert gripped Valjean’s muscled shoulders and pawed at his back, little sounds of pleasure escaping him, but only half as many as Valjean was making.    
  
“Will you have me properly this evening?” Javert asked.   
  
“Will I… Oh, yes. I am prepared this time.” Valjean separated himself reluctantly from the younger man and reached to the bedside table. He picked up a bottle of lube. It was obviously new, unopened, but it seemed far too large and far too expensive to be purchased solely for a one-night stand. He showed it to Javert with a smile that was so awkward that it was cute.   
  
Javert raised an eyebrow. “Yes, you certainly are. You bought that just for… us?” Javert wanted to cringe.  _ Us.  _   
  
Valjean blushed. “Yes, of course… Is it too much?”   
  
“It is. But it doesn’t matter.” Javert squirmed out of his underwear. “Get to it, then.”   
  
Valjean nodded, flustered, but removed his own underwear. Javert watched, realizing that he also wasn’t quite sure what to do. He looked at Valjean’s colossal erection and swallowed, at once wanting it inside him and fearing the pain it would cause.    
  
“Lean back, make yourself comfortable,” Valjean said.    
  
Javert lay back against the mountain of pillows. He was glad to be propped up like this; he was comfortable, yet he could still watch Valjean. The man teased a hand between his knees. Javert spread his legs to the other man.   
  
Valjean positioned himself between Javert’s thighs. He picked up the bottle of lube, squirted a bit on his right index finger, and set it back down.   
  
Javert hummed a little and spread his legs further apart. Valjean looked him in the eye.   
  
“You are sure this is what you want, right?” he asked.   
  
Javert nodded. “I am very sure.”   
  
Valjean reached forward and touched his finger to Javert’s hole – just touched, but Javert’s hips bucked at the feeling and he let out a little moan. Valjean slowly traced the tight ring of muscle.   
  
“Fuck, that feels good…”   
  
“Do try to watch your language, Javert…” Valjean said very quietly.   
  
Javert scoffed. “We’re having sex, Valjean. I will swear if I want to.”   
  
Valjean smirked a little. Javert knew he saw that.   
  
The finger kept sliding around over his opening and he was whimpering. Why wouldn’t Valjean just put it in? He slid his hips forward, and the movement caused Valjean’s finger to press against Javert’s hole. The younger man gasped.   
  
Valjean’s eyes widened as this happened. He bit his lip and pressed just the tip of his finger inside.   
  
“Jean, more! Please!”   
  
Javert supposed using the man’s first name was the key to get what he wanted, because Valjean’s finger was suddenly buried to the knuckle inside of him. He moaned and bucked at the feeling.   
  
Valjean began to move his finger around inside him, pressing against the muscle. “Is this alright?” he asked.   
  
Javert nodded. “Keep going..”   
  
Valjean kept it up, exploring inside him gently. Javert’s eyelids were heavy, half-closed.    
  
“Another finger, please.”   
  
The older man removed his finger, and Javert watched through hazy eyes as Valjean squirted lube onto his index and middle fingers. Javert braced himself for the two large fingers inside him, but they came slowly, gently, and he felt almost no pain in the stretch. He couldn’t help the little whimpers he made.    
  
The fingers inside him bent, scissored, pushed in and out, and he was lost in the bliss. Then Valjean touched something deep inside him and his legs jolted further open as he cried out.    
  
“Jean…” he panted, not knowing whether to ask for more or to warn him not to touch him there again, lest he make it all end to soon.   
  
“Are you ready, Javert?”   
  
The inspector nodded. “Yes. Fuck me, Jean.”   
  
Valjean was blushing as he removed his fingers. He took up the bottle of lube again and squirted some into his palm, which he spread over his own erection with a barely-suppressed moan.    
  
The look the older man gave Javert then was an odd mix of arousal, determination, and nervousness. One hand– the one that wasn’t covered in lube– settled on Javert’s waist. The one that was, he used to guide his own cock into position. He took a deep breath.   
  
“You sure about this?” he asked.    
  
“Yes, Jean.” He paused. “Are you sure?”   
  
He nodded and bit his lip. “I’m a little…” He laughed. “Never mind. You’ll tell me if I do something wrong, won’t you?”   
  
Javert nodded. Valjean took another deep breath and touched the tip of his cock to Javert’s hole. The inspector swallowed, anticipation burning at him. How long he had wanted this… Valjean finally pushed, just a little, and the head of his enormous prick was inside him. Javert moaned. It was already almost too much. Too big, but so good. He tried to will himself to relax. He focused on Valjean’s hand, the one that was rubbing his waist and thighs soothingly. He let out a sigh that quickly turned into a moan.   
  
“Javert, do you want me to stop?”   
  
Javert’s chest was heaving, his eyes were half-closed, and he had just made one of the most needy noises he’d ever heard. He managed to roll his eyes. “Oh, yes, please do. It’s simply horrible. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Valjean, really, ” he said with as much sarcasm as was humanly possible.   
  
Valjean was no longer inside him. For a second, Javert worried that Valjean had taken him seriously, but when he opened his eyes fully, he noticed Valjean was shaking with silent laughter that soon became voiced. Valjean laughed, his brilliant smile contagious enough to make Javert smile back without even realized. The hand squeezing his heart wasn’t wearing a gauntlet anymore, but a pair of wooly mittens, and the feeling was so good, so much better than what Valjean was doing to him. But Valjean  _ was  _ doing this to him, he realized, but instead of it being with his hands or his cock, it was with his smile and his laughter and his presence. Javert melted into the feeling, wanting it to never, ever stop.    
  
“Oh, Javert…” Valjean said, still smiling, his eyes still bright, his voice heavy with something that Javert knew he felt, too. “Javert, you’re so… I…” he trailed off, shaking his head.   
  
“Get back inside me, Jean. And… And don’t worry about anything. You’re smile’s too beautiful.” It was cheesy. It was stupid. Javert didn’t care one bit.   
  
The head of Valjean’s cock was touching Javert’s opening again. Valjean was still grinning, and it wasn’t strange. When he pressed back inside Javert, it wasn’t bizarre that the corners of his mouth were still turned upwards when he moaned. It was amazing. Javert watched him and he was feeling so much warmth and happiness and much more that he couldn’t name, and didn’t want to think about naming when he could focus on Valjean.   
  
“A little more?” Valjean asked.   
  
“Yes, please.”   
  
Another inch or so was pressed into him and the both of them moaned. Javert was wincing a little; it did hurt a little.    
  
“Are you okay?”   
  
“Yes…”   
  
“You’re tight around me, Javert. Relax.”   
  
“How?”   
  
Valjean looked into Javert’s eyes, placing both hands on the inspector’s waist. “Begin to bring your awareness inwards, to your breath. Notice how your breath feels, and where it is in your body.”

 

Javert laughed. He didn’t know if he’d ever laughed like that in his life. “Valjean–”   
  
“Relax your jaw, and allow your tongue to rest on the roof of your mouth,” Valjean was laughing, too. “Relax the space between the eyebrows.”   
  
Javert could do this, now. He just couldn’t stop smiling.   
  


“Slowly start to deepen the breath, bringing it deeper into your belly,” Valjean said.. “As you inhale, feel your belly expand like a balloon; as you exhale, feel your navel draw toward your spine. As your breath draws deeper into your belly, there is very little movement, if any, from the chest.”

Javert breathed deeply, following the well-known instructions. After a couple deep breaths, though, he laughed again. He suddenly couldn’t believe how he hadn’t laughed like this all his life; it was so easy to do it. 

  
“Shh, you’ve got it. I can feel it.”  
  
“You can feel my breath in my…?”  
  
Valjean was laughing again. Was sex supposed to be this funny? Javert didn’t care. “No!” Valjean said, “I can feel you relaxing! It feels… a little weird, I admit. But that means I can go in deeper…” Valjean pushed in a tiny bit more. Javert moaned, squirming where he lay.   
  
“Oh– Javert… Oh, that feels good…”  
  
“Help me take the rest, won’t you?”  
  
“You don’t have to–”  
  
“What’s the point of only half-fucking me, Valjean? Might as well at least try to take the whole thing.”  
  
Valjean nodded. “Alright, fair point. Well, then, uh… inhale…”  
  
Javert took a deep, diaphragmatic breath.   
  
“Exhale…”  
  
Javert let his breath out in a sigh that turned shaky as he felt Valjean push in a tiny bit more.   
  
“Very good. Again. Inhale… Exhale…”  
  
Javert was ready this time; when more of the other man’s cock entered him, he didn’t falter. His breath stayed even and his body didn’t tense.   
  
“Perfect. Inhale… Exhale…”  
  
He had to be almost there, now. There couldn’t be much left. No matter how relaxed he was, the stretch ached a little.   
  
“Just one more push, Javert.”  
  
“Not going to ask me if I’m feeling the burn?”  
  
Valjean laughed. “I teach yoga, I don’t make aerobics videos from the 80s. And this is sex, not yoga or aerobics!”  
  
“Feels like a little of both,” Javert said.   
  
“That’s true. Well, are you ready?”  
  
Javert steeled himself. “Yes.”  
  
“Okay. Inhale… and exhale.”  
  
Then Javert felt Valjean’s balls press against his skin. His eyes widened. “Oh my…”  
  
“You did it, Javert! My goodness, you did it…” Valjean said this and looked down to where his dick had completely disappeared inside the other man.  
  
“Damn right I did!” Javert said. “You are absolutely massive… How did I do that?”  
  
“Diaphragmatic breathing and lube,” Valjean answered.  
  
Javert frowned. “I was hoping to take some credit.”  
  
Valjean smiled. “And you should. I– _Oh!_ ”   
Valjean was cut off when Javert purposely squirmed around Valjean’s cock. “Enough talking. Fuck me.”  
  
“Language,” Valjean muttered.  
  
Javert squirmed again and clenched his hole, and Valjean had nothing more to say. He moaned again.  
  
“Okay, I get it!” Valjean said, smiling, as he braced his arms on either side of Javert’s head and withdrew his prick almost all the way from the younger man.   
  
Before Javert had to ask again, Valjean was thrusting in and out of him at a lazy pace, smooth and even. Javert sighed. It felt… Indescribably good. His hands rested on Valjean’s strong back.  
  
“Jean…”  
  
Valjean raised his head to look Javert in the eyes, and Javert’s stomach turned over.   
  
“Jean!”   
  
“What?”  
  
“I…” Javert didn’t know what to say. Words were gone. He shook his head and smiled. “I don’t know. Just… Don’t stop.”  
  
Valjean didn’t. He didn’t break eye contact, either. Javert felt so exposed and vulnerable like this, face to face and eye to eye with this man as he was being taken apart, but yet… He felt proud to be watched like this. Proud as if Valjean were watching him be built back up. And for every moan that escaped his lips, there was an answering one from Valjean. Every time he felt his face scrunch up and he thought he looked strange, he would see the same on Valjean’s face, and it would look gorgeous.   
  
“Faster, please…”  
  
He had only just asked but Valjean delivered, his thrusts fast and desperate.   
  
The friction yet fluidity of Valjean’s cock in Javert was glorious, perfect; the stretch was still a little sore but it was so good.  
  
When Valjean hit his prostate, Javert yelped in a way that startled the other man.   
  
Valjean stopped. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
Javert shook his head. “Hit my prostate.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“Do that again. And again. And don’t stop.”  
  
“Yes, Sir,” Valjean said jokingly, and resumed his thrusts. “Will you tell me when I get the right spot.”  
  
“Yes, I certainly– _Oh God!_ ”  
  
Valjean laughed. “What? Was that it?”  
  
“Yes, it w–” Valjean nudged the spot again. “ _Ah!_ That’s–” Again. “ _Jean!_ ”  
  
The older man laughed again. “You’re certainly having a lot of trouble talki– _Oh!_ ” Valjean cried out as Javert clenched around him.  
  
The both of them laughed this time, and they kept smiles on their faces as Valjean kept thrusting, hitting just the right spot again and again and again. It felt so good, his entire body was warm from the ecstasy of it, and his _heart…_ He could almost not tell the difference now, between sexual pleasure and whatever was happening in his chest. It was all Valjean. It was _all Valjean._ _  
__  
_ “Javert, I’m about to–” Valjean grunted.  
  
“So am I!”  
  
A few more thrusts, and Javert cried out and climaxed, and the clench of his hole around Valjean must have been enough to take the other over the edge as well. He heard Valjean yell his name and felt wet warmth fill him, and _this. This_ was the best thing he had ever felt. Whatever the feeling’s called when you’re holding a person close and all you care about is them and their smile and their laugh and their body against yours and their voice and _them_ and nothing else matters, nothing at all, because all the stress and negativity in your body has been expunged, like carbon dioxide from the lungs, and now all you feel is joy, joy and happiness and whatever this feeling is called and you never want it to end and you know it has to but even then you still feel it and you still know it’s real and you _know_ you’ve never felt this good in your life and that this is how you want to feel until you die and only _this_ _person_ can make you feel this way and you’re holding them and it’s like you’re holding sunlight. Whatever that’s called. That’s what Javert felt.  
  
Valjean finally pulled away from Javert, his cock slipping out of Javert easily, leaving the man feeling empty and full at once. But the look in Valjean’s eyes was more than enough to make him forget that. Valjean’s smile was like sunshine and Javert didn’t even know he was smiling back, he was too busy basking in it.  
  
“That was… Perfect,” Valjean said, his voice reverent.   
  
“Perfect,” Javert agreed.  
  
Valjean lay down next to Javert and held him close, not caring for the mess they’d both made over each other. Valjean took the elastic out of Javert’s hair and nuzzled into the locks and muttered something about him being gorgeous. Javert wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. He pressed his body flush against Valjean’s and sighed. Valjean sighed in return, and it was as if they had told each other everything they’d ever thought.   
  
“It’s late,” Valjean said, a long time later.  
  
“It’s not _that_ late.”  
  
“Is it late enough for me to tell you you should just spend the night here?”  
  
“It is.”  
  
“Is my couch small enough to justify you sleeping in my bed?”  
  
“Jean, we just had sex.”  
  
“Is it?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
A pause. “So you’re staying.”  
  
There was nothing he’d ever wanted more. “Obviously.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're screaming a little in your head because I SURE AM!


	15. No Change of Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second last chapter!!!! Aaaaaa  
> More smut, but this chapter is mostly just fluff.
> 
> Chapter title from "A Change In Me" from the Beauty and the Beast musical, because, as I've ranted to all my friends about, THAT SONG IS JAVERT

Javert woke that morning to warmth around him and a wet kiss on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered open. 

_ Valjean. _

Lips chapped from sleep continued to kiss his shoulder and neck from behind. He hummed in pleasure.

“Good morning, Javert,” came Valjean’s groggy voice.

“‘Morning, Jean.”

Valjean sat up, and Javert rolled into his back with a grunt. He looked up at Valjean who was smiling down at him. The older man pushed a lock of his tangled hair out of his eyes. 

“Sleep well?” Valjean asked.

“Like a log,” Javert said, and stretched a little.

“Wonderful. It certainly seemed like it– you barely even squirmed in my arms all night.”

Javert smirked. “And you? How did you sleep?”

“Alright. I kept waking up to marvel at you, though,” Valjean said.

Javert scoffed. “Am I really that much to marvel at?”

Valjean nodded. “You certainly are. And having you in my arms, well… that’s a blessing from God Himself.”

Javert hummed, still smiling. “As long as you didn't stay up all night staring at me and thanking God.”

Valjean laughed. “No. I was too tired.” He slid out of bed and walked to the window, where he opened the curtains and let the early morning light in.

Javert groaned and rubbed his eyes. “What time is it?” he grumbled.

“Six o’clock,” Valjean answered cheerily.

“Six?” Javert hid his face in the pillow. 

Valjean chuckled. “Yes. I have to go to work.”

Javert groaned. “So I have to get up and leave, don't I?”

“Well, not necessarily.” The bed sank down a little as Valjean sat beside the other man. “I’ll be back from around 11:15 to 1:45 to have a shower and eat and all that. You can laze around until then, if you want.”

“That sounds lovely,” Javert said. He paused. “You trust me alone in your apartment?”

“You trusted me with your body, why should I not?” Valjean said. He was gently rubbing Javert’s bare shoulder. The young man sighed. “Besides,” Valjean said, “Will you even have gotten out of bed by the time I get back?”

Javert yawned.

Valjean chuckled and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to Javert’s temple. “I’ll leave you be.”

Javert hummed. What he really wanted was Valjean to climb back into bed with him and to hold him again until they awoke again at a reasonable hour. However, he knew this wasn't an option, so he supposed Valjean’s suggestion was alright. 

Valjean got up then, and Javert heard him go through some drawers. His eyes were closed and he felt as if he were already drifting off. The light in the room disappeared as Valjean closed the curtains again. 

Javert felt lips on his forehead. “See you later, Javert,” Valjean whispered to him.

Javert hummed in response, suddenly unable to form words anymore. He heard Valjean walk away and close the bathroom door behind him.

Javert listened to Valjean as he puttered in the bathroom. This felt strangely domestic, but only in the best way. 

Javert rolled over to the other side of the bed, the one Valjean had occupied during the night. He could smell the other man; sweat and soap and  _ him.  _ He breathed the scent in deeply. He felt so content, so happy. The warmth of the blankets and the comforting smell of Valjean quickly put him back to sleep.   
  


When the inspector woke up, he was confused. The bed he lay on was far too comfortable to be his own, and the light leaking around the curtains was coming from the wrong angle. His window was directly over his bed, not across the room from it. He opened his eyes and looked around. No, this wasn’t his room…   
  
Right, it was Valjean’s. Everything that had happened hadn’t all been a dream.   
  
Javert couldn’t help but smile. God, this was strange... He loved it. He sat up and looked around for a clock. The nearest one told him it was 10:52. That left him very little time before Valjean’s return. He sprung out of bed. He needed to make it look like he hadn’t just woken up! He found the light switch and turned on the light, squinting at the brightness. He stretched for a moment before looking around for his clothes. Having been sitting on the floor all night, they were badly rumpled. He scowled. Better than nothing. He rushed to the en-suite bathroom and turned on the light. It was a very nice bathroom, and very tidy. Javert didn’t want to touch any of Valjean’s stuff. He used the toilet, washed his hands, got dressed, and ran his fingers through his hair to detangle it. He only used one thing of Valjean’s: toothpaste, so he could rub it on his teeth with his finger in an attempt at cleanliness.

This done, he exited the bathroom and went into the main room. He realized he was hungry. Would Valjean mind if he raided his kitchen? Probably not. 

Javert opened pantries carefully and frowned. Why was all that Valjean owned organic and vegetarian? None of this was real food! There wasn't even coffee; just bags and bags of various herbal teas. 

Javert groaned. Valjean’s fridge was no better. Javert eventually got out some organic 12-grain bread that was apparently a source of essential vitamins and minerals, and then some margarine – disappointing – and ate at the table. 

Finally, he made himself think about what he was doing.

What  _ was  _ he doing? 

This was only meant to be quick sex, but yet they’d had slow, gentle, tender sex during which they’d laughed, and then Javert had stayed the night, and now he was sitting here in Valjean’s kitchen, eating his stupid organic bread. What on Earth was this?   
  
And  _ why _ did he like it? Not the bread, of course – it had too many grains and vitamins for Javert’s taste – but his situation. He couldn’t remember having ever enjoyed anything more than the sex he’d had with Valjean last night, and the only thing that came close was their romp in the private lesson room several weeks ago.   
  
He was liking this so much, in fact, that he didn’t want this part of his life to end.    
  
Valjean had become a necessity to him. He needed Valjean in his life, he realized, just like he needed oxygen or sleep or the law or the sun. And he needed the man for more than just sex. He needed him for his kindness and his smile and his  _ everything.  _ Javert found this easier to admit to himself than he’d expected. Perhaps he’d really known it all along.    
  
His phone buzzed in his pocket – how was it still in there? – and he pulled it out. It was a text from Jean. 

> Hey, Javert! :) If you’re awake to read this, I’m about to leave the studio. xx 

Javert smiled at his phone. It was 11:01; Valjean would be home soon. 

> Ive been up 4 a while ill have u kno

Valjean replied very quickly.

> OMG :O    
>    
>  Since you’re awake, do you want me to pick up something for lunch on my way? xx   
>    
> 

Javert had never read sweeter words.

> Yes pls do   
>    
>  I dont want 2 eat ur organic crap
> 
>  
> 
> Figured. :P    
>    
>  Do you like Subway? xx
> 
>  

Sounded a lot better than anything Valjean had in his pantries. 

> Sounds good   
>    
> 
> 
> Okay! xx See you soon, Javert! :) <3

Javert put his phone back in his pocket. He threw out his unfinished bread and put everything away. He sat on the couch and waited rather impatiently for Valjean, checking the time repeatedly. He’d figured that the detour for food would prolong Valjean’s journey home, but he was expecting Valjean to come back earlier than 11:30.    
  
It was 11:32 when Jean Valjean finally opened the door. He was in familiar workout gear, and along with a messenger bag and a yoga mat, he was carrying a Subway bag. He smiled at Javert.   
  
“Hey,” he said, and placed his stuff on the floor and the food on the table. “Sorry I’m a little late. There was a lineup.”   
  
“It’s okay. I understand delays; this is New York City, after all.”   
  
Valjean chuckled. “Yeah.” He bent down to remove his shoes. “Well, Javert, how were your extra hours of sleep?”   
  
“Magnificent, thanks,” he said. “Though they would’ve been better with you to hold me again.”   
  
He could swear Valjean blushed a little at this.    
  
“How was work?”   
  
“It was great!” Having finished his shoe removal, he straightened. There was a slight frown on his face. “Though Fantine seemed to have realized that I was in an even better mood than usual. She asked me if anything special had happened last night. Do you think she’s onto me?”   
  
Javert laughed internally. “Well,” he answered, “as you said, she’s not the kind of person to suspect things like that.”   
  
Valjean smiled. “That’s true. I’m sure I’m only paranoid.” He paused for a beat. “You know how people say that when you lose your virginity, you feel like everyone can tell? Like there’s a flashing sign over you that’s like ‘This guy had sex!’? It’s probably just that.”   
  
Javert chuckled. “Yes, well, I can assure you there are no flashing signs above you, Jean.”   
  
Valjean laughed, too. “Well,” he said, “I should jump into the shower, now. I’ll only be fifteen minutes.” He began to walk to the bedroom.    
  
Javert sat up straighter. “Wait!” Valjean did. “Would you mind if I joined you?”   
  
Valjean turned around, eyes wide. “Javert… I’m all sweaty. I don’t know how appealing it’ll be…”   
  
“I’ve seen you sweaty, Valjean, and it’s incredibly appealing.”   
  
Valjean blushed. “Oh… Well, if you’re sure…”   
  
“Only if you want to, I mean.”   
  
Valjean smiled bashfully. “I would love it if you joined me, Javert.”   
  
The inspector grinned, and he stood. “Wonderful. Lead the way.”   
  
Javert, of course, already knew the way, and had already seen the inside of Valjean’s bathroom. He hadn’t yet seen the shower, though. It was spacious enough for the both of them, thankfully. Once they were inside, Valjean closed the door and began to remove his clothes. Javert eagerly followed suit.   
  
Once he was naked, Valjean turned on the shower and held out a hand to test the water. Once he was satisfied by the temperature, he stepped in. Javert watched in fascination as the currents of water flowed over Valjean’s bare body, especially over his firm butt.    
  
Valjean was looking at him, smiling. “Coming?”   
  
Javert threw his shirt off and entered the shower after Valjean. The water was a little colder than he would have liked, but he supposed that Valjean had just been exercising all morning, so he had the right to a cool shower. Javert waited until his hair was completely wet before he moved out of the way of the stream of water. Javert watched as Valjean squirted shampoo into his hand and began to wash his own hair. The younger man’s eyes strayed to Valjean’s body, and eventually, his hands followed, tracing ridges of muscle. Valjean hummed, and Javert saw the man’s cock beginning to stir.   
  
“You’ve got the most perfect body…” Javert mumbled, hands wandering wherever they wished over the body in question.   
  
“It’s not perfect,” Valjean said as he leaned under the stream of water to rinse his hair.    
  
“Close to it, then.” Javert’s hands made their way to Valjean’s short hair, rubbing circles in his scalp as the water poured over them both.   
  
Valjean sighed and held Javert closer to him. Javert’s heart was going crazy as he saw how trusting, how relaxed Valjean was in his arms as suds of shampoo were washed from his hair. 

“If we’re talking about things that are perfect, we should mention your bottom.”

Javert laughed. “What, and how it’s disproportionately large? How it’s so big, in fact, that people think I have implants?”

“People have thought that?”

“It’s happened, Jean. I swear.”

Valjean laughed. “They’re just jealous. Your bum is perfect, and they wish they had one like it.”

Javert smirked. “Perhaps. How much time in yoga did you spend staring at my ass?”

“Much more than is proper,” Valjean answered.

Valjean poured more shampoo into his hands and reached up to rub it into Javert’s hair. The taller man used this as an opportunity to let his hands roam Valjean’s body again as he savoured the attention his hair was getting. When Valjean finally directed him under the stream of water to rinse his hair, he shivered slightly. 

“Too cold?” Valjean asked. 

“A little.”

Valjean turned the knob and the water became noticeably warmer. Javert muttered his thanks to Valjean, who continued to rinse his hair. Having finished this, Valjean pressed a long kiss to Javert's collarbone as he fumbled for something. He picked up a pink bottle of body wash, and when he poured some into his hands, Javert recognized the smell.

“Strawberry scented?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

“It was on sale, okay?” Valjean said, moving Javert out of the water so that he could begin to wash his body.

Javert hummed contentedly at the gentleness of Valjean’s hands perusing his body, lazily rubbing soap onto his skin. Javert took the bottle himself and squirted some into his hand so he could join in. Valjean sighed as soapy palms were placed flat on his chest, rubbing over muscles and the number tattooed over his pectorals. 

Valjean’s hands wandered to Javert’s ass and squeezed. Javert moaned, hands sliding up Valjean’s sides.

“How intimately may I clean you, Javert?”

Javert’s stomach leaped at the question. “Very intimately, Jean. Please.”

Javert watched Valjean’s eyes darken visibly and his broad chest rise and fall. One of the hands on Javert’s ass sneaked towards his crack, as if it were indeed forbidden. When a gentle digit teased at his hole, Javert moaned, holding on tightly to Valjean. The finger prodded very gently,  very lightly, and Javert wanted to spread his legs to allow it entrance, but he could not, as he was standing.   
  
Valjean’s other hand slid down to Javert’s thigh and grabbed it, pulling it towards him. Javert let Valjean lift his leg and rest it on his waist. Valjean kissed Javert’s neck and collarbone again as he pushed one finger slowly inside. Javert cried out, his hands grappling at Valjean’s back. Valjean hummed in reply, his finger slowly sliding in and out of Javert.   
  
“Jean…” Javert whined. His body was shaking with pleasure, he was worried he would fall. Valjean gently leaned him against the wall of the shower and continued to “clean” him with his finger.    
  
Valjean’s eyes were dark and his prick was standing firm as he touched Javert; he seemed to be just as interested as Javert.    
  
“Please, Jean…More. Another one.”   
  
Valjean obeyed, sliding his right middle finger with an ease that shocked them both. Javert moaned at the stretch that was nothing compared to what Valjean’s cock felt like inside him. But it was so good, so delicious. Valjean crooked his fingers inside Javert, making the man whimper and moan with every touch. A penis, no matter how large, lacked this dexterity, giving this a whole new edge.    
  
Valjean began to really fuck Javert with his fingers, fast and with no desire to drag this out. The slippery hand that had been on Javert’s thigh now took a hold of his cock and began to stroke it at the same pace his fingers were following. Javert cried out.   
  
“Oh, fuck, Jean…”   
  
“Language!”   
  
“Jean!”   
  
Valjean’s fingers struck his prostate, and Javert all but screamed. Valjean stopped the rapid movement of his wrist, only to start  _ pressing  _ on that spot with so much accuracy Javert thought he would faint. He began to babble, a jumble of meaningless cries and ‘Jean’s and ‘yes’s that seemed to get louder and higher the longer this sweet torture went on. Finally, the wave of pleasure crested and Javert came with a whine. 

Valjean’s fingers were withdrawn from him, and Javert tried to balance himself back on two feet. Javert watched as Valjean stood under the stream of water, rinsing Javert’s semen from his body, rinsing his fingers.

“Thank you, Jean,” Javert said, “I feel… very clean.”   
  
Valjean laughed and turned back to Javert. “Good.”    
  
Valjean held Javert close, back under the stream of water. He pulled Javert down to kiss him tenderly and deeply. It was like kissing in the rain, sort of, Javert thought with a silent scoff. So romantic. He would have hated this, before. But not now. Now, it was amazing. Now, it was everything that he wanted to do. His arms found their way around Valjean’s shoulders and they just kept kissing, only stopping when Valjean needed to break away to breathe. Javert felt Valjean’s quick breaths against his damp skin, and he sighed.

“Does your cock need to be ‘cleaned’, Jean?” Javert asked this with as much suggestiveness as he could muster. 

Valjean chuckled. “I suppose it ought to be.” 

Javert smirked and peeled away from Valjean’s body. He once again grabbed the bottle of strawberry scented body wash and squirted a bit into his hand. He looked down at Valjean's prick and noticed immediately how erect it was. He reached down to grab it at the base and relished Valjean’s sigh as he did so. Javert gave the cock a single stroke before he decided he was dissatisfied with the angle. Grumbling a little, he knelt down before Valjean. He smirked. Now,  _ this.  _ This was much better.

“Javert, what are you doing down there?” Valjean asked.

Javert began to slide his soap-slick hand up and down Valjean's cock, and, judging by the resulting moan from somewhere above him, Javert figured that his purpose was understood.

Javert watched the solid prick in his hand swell even further as he touched it, listened to Valjean’s little sighs and moans of delight, and he licked his lips. Valjean’s erection was so close to him, it would be so easy to take it into his mouth…

He then took Valjean’s balls in his hand and started to rub them gently, almost as if he were really cleaning them. With his other hand, he used his thumb to push back Valjean’s foreskin and softly draw circles on the head of the man’s penis.

Valjean whimpered, hands flying out for something to hold onto. One hand settled on Javert’s shoulder and the other became tangled in his wet hair. Javert’s lips parted. He wanted to…   
  
Before he even really made a decision regarding the matter, Javert’s hand moved out of the way so that his mouth could settle around the head of Valjean’s prick. There was a cry of pleasure that was followed by a loud whimper.    
  
“Javert– Oh!”    
  
The inspector hummed. There was more of a taste to than he was expecting; there was a little soap, a hint of sweat, and a lot of of something else, something musky and masculine and not altogether pleasant but far from repulsive. He took more of it into his mouth. He looked up at Valjean then, and the sight made his stomach leap. Valjean was staring down at him, wide-eyed, face flushed red, kiss-swollen lips parted. Javert made eye contact with him as he took yet more of his cock, and was rewarded with a moan even louder and more desperate than any Javert had heard thus far.   
  
Javert could remember a time when he thought this act was disgusting. He’d used to think that sucking a man’s cock was demeaning, and that it was an act of dominance to make another person kneel before you and do this. But it was clear to Javert now, in this moment, that this wasn’t the case. It wasn’t a power play. It was more than that, or, perhaps, less than that. This was just Javert giving pleasure, Valjean receiving it. There was nothing to it but that. Javert certainly did not feel particularly submissive at all; if anything, he felt like he was in control. It empowered him to hear Valjean whimper and groan, to see him shudder and blush, all the while knowing it was because of him that the man was doing so.    
  
When Valjean finally spent himself in Javert’s mouth, Javert felt not like he was being used, but like Valjean was offering himself up, showing all his vulnerability with full trust in Javert. The younger man swallowed the thick fluid gratefully and without a moment’s hesitation. It was bliss.    
  
After a few moments, Valjean turned off the shower and helped Javert to his feet. They stepped out, the both of them feeling very satisfied. Valjean had to leave the bathroom to get a towel for Javert, and after he did so, they were both very close to the bed, so they tumbled onto it, towels and all. They began to kiss again, neither of them seeming to care where Javert’s mouth had just been. They kissed for a long time, the feeling of lips against lips and damp skin against damp skin never growing old. When finally they were too breathless to continue, they collapsed onto each other; Javert laid his head on Valjean's chest, gasping for air.

Javert listening to the thundering beat of Valjean’s heart and he became even more overwhelmed with emotion. He knew now what he wanted. He saw it, clear as day.

Javert raised his head to look Valjean in the eye. “Jean?”   
  
“Yes?’ the other man answered.   
  
Javert looked into Valjean’s bright eyes and knew he was ready. “I know I said before that I ‘don’t do relationships’, but… Well, I think upon further thought, I have revised my opinion on the matter.”   
  
Valjean smiled. “You mean, you want…?”   
  
Javert smiled back. “I do. I do want.”   
  
Valjean laughed. “My goodness… I can’t believe it. This is really too good to be true.”    
  
“Well, it is true. I realize my feelings for you extend beyond simple lust, and I would like to have a proper relationship with you. Would you like the same?”   
  
“Javert, I… I mean, yes! Yes, of course I would, by all means! It’s exactly what I’ve been dreaming about for weeks and weeks now... But is that really what  _ you _ want?”   
  
“What do you mean?”   
  
Valjean sighed. “Well, the romantic dates and the cuddles and the affection and the flowers and all the stuff I’d want in a relationship, it just… doesn’t seem your style.”   
  
“People can change, Valjean.”   
  
The older man beamed. “So you finally admit it!”   
  
Javert smirked. “Anyone can change if they’re around you long enough. You’re the master of change.”   
  
Valjean laughed. “So, Javert, you really do want to be in a relationship with an ex-con?”   
  
“Yes.” Javert leaned down and slowly kissed the numbers across Valjean’s chest in order. “With you, Jean Valjean.”


	16. Chapitre où l'on s'adore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE DID IT FOLKS! We've reached the end of this monstrosity.  
> I'd like to thank everyone who has read and left comments and kudos, especially everyone in the "Sorry Garth" group chat on instagram. I am so grateful and amazed that so many people have been reading and enjoying my work. Thanks so much for reading and sticking around!
> 
> Chapter title is a chapter from Les Mis that fits what happens here quite well.

8:56 pm, Friday evening. Javert had just finished his shift. He had driven over to Jean Madeleine’s Yoga Academy for the first time since that infamous Saturday in the private lesson room. Upon stepping inside, it became evident that it was just the same as it had always been, and Javert was flooded with memories of his budding attraction to Jean “Madeleine”. He smiled to himself.   
  
“Javert?”    
  
It was Fantine who had just spoken. She was coming out of the left hallway, smiling. “How great to see you again! What brings you here?”   
  
“Hello, Fantine. Well, I just got off work, and I’m here to pick up Jean.”    
  
Fantine raised an eyebrow. “So... What’s up with you two?”   
  
Javert smiled a little. “WWe made it official last Saturday.”   
  
Fantine grinned back at him. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you! And I knew something was up with Jean… He’s been absolutely bursting with joy the last week. I figured it was you.”    
  
A door opened, the one for the private lesson room, and who should step out but  _ Garreth.  _ Javert felt previously dormant rage bubble inside him as the man bid a flirty goodbye to  _ his  _ boyfriend.   
  
When Garreth saw Javert in the main room, his grin disappeared in an instant. Then, slowly, a fake, passive-aggressive smile crept onto his thin lips.    
  
“Javert! What a surprise!”   
  
Javert nodded to the younger man.    
  
“Long time no see, huh? Well, I’m dying to know what brings you here this evening. You don’t even take classes with Jean anymore. You’ve given up!”   
  
“I don’t take classes, anymore that’s correct,” Javert said. All would be revealed soon...   
  
“So what are you doing here, huh? You think you still have a chance with Jean?”   
  
Javert stared at Garreth, waiting for him to continue.    
  
“Fantine told me you and Jean did it in the private lesson room. I know that’s a lie, though. Jean wouldn’t do that, especially not with someone as ugly as you are!”   
  
Javert couldn’t help but smirk.    
  
Garreth smiled maliciously. “What’s wrong, hmm? Cat got your tongue?”   
  
The door opened and closed again. It was Valjean this time, carrying his yoga mat and his bag. He smiled as he approached the other men.    
  
“Hello, Javert!” Valjean greeted cheerily.   
  
“Good evening, Jean,” Javert replied.    
  
Valjean stood on his toes to give Javert a quick peck on the lips. And, oh, the expression on Garreth’s face was beautiful. He had gone tomato red, and his eyes were almost bugging out, and his mouth had fallen open slightly. Javert smiled even wider at this.    
  
“I’ll take your stuff for you, my Jean,” Javert said, taking Valjean’s bag from him.   
  
“That’s very sweet of you! Thanks, baby.”   
  
Garreth was seething. He huffed and began to stomp out of the place.    
  
“Are you alright? Gavin?” Valjean called after Garreth, but to no avail. The young man had stormed off.    
  
Fantine was laughing hysterically. Valjean frowned at this.    
  
“This isn’t funny! We may have seriously offended him! I hope he isn’t homophobic…”

Fantine laughed harder. “He isn’t. He’s gay himself. And he’s only jealous.”   
  
“Jealous? Of who? What are you talking about?”   
  
“You mean to say you haven’t noticed he’s been drooling over you for months now?” Fantine asked incredulously.   
  
Valjean opened his mouth, then closed it. He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm. I suppose that would… explain a lot.”   
  
“He and Javert were fighting for you. And Garreth’s a very sore loser.”   
  
Valjean froze. “Is that so?”   
  
“Not really fighting,” javert corrected, “just arguing about why the other couldn’t get with you. I must admit that I’m proud to show him I was right the whole time.”   
  
“Ah, I see,” said Valjean, nodding. He turned to Fantine. “Well, goodnight, Fantine. See you tomorrow!”   
  
She smiled at her boss. “Goodnight. See you tomorrow, Jean.”   
  
Valjean left his studio and Javert followed quickly behind him after saying goodnight to Fantine. Javert unlocked his doors by remote, tossed Valjean’s stuff into the trunk, and made his way to the driver’s seat. When he sat down and closed the door, Valjean was looking at him oddly.    
  
“So that’s what this is about, is it?” Valjean asked.   
  
“What are you talking about?”   
  
“Our relationship. It’s just to prove your point to Garreth.”   
  
Javert frowned. “Jean, why would you think I’m that shallow?”   
  
“Well, you were so adamant that you didn’t do relationships. I find it odd that you jumped so eagerly into one with me,” Valjean spoke defensively, his tone biting. “I understand now that you just wanted to be with me to prove your point. I know how much you love proving your points.”   
  
“That isn’t it! I didn’t want a relationship with you because of that. I like you, Jean. I really have feelings for you.”   
  
“Do you really?” Jean asked him. “I don’t think you do. I can sort of believe that you could want to have sex with me, but I can’t…” The older man stopped. “Javert, I love you. You don’t love me.”   
  
Javert paled. Love. Valjean  _ loved  _ him. Javert hated love, he couldn’t love. “Well, I don’t know if I love you, but I certainly like you very much.”   
  
Valjean opened the car door. “I can’t do this anymore. Open the trunk for me, please.”   
  
Javert’s heart rose to his throat. “Jean! No!”   
  
Valjean got up. “Please, Javert. Open the trunk.”   
  
“No, please! Don’t leave!” Javert’s voice was uncharacteristically emotional. He felt on the verge of tears. This stopped Valjean for a moment.   
  
“Valjean, I… I really care about you. I’ve never cared so much about anyone.”   
  
“But do you love me?” Valjean rubbed his forehead. “I’m tired of you playing with my emotions. I have been true to myself and honest to you from the start, but you… We had sex. I gave you my number, and you ‘lost’ it. And you still just wanted it to be casual sex. Then you wanted a relationship all of a sudden. What do you really want? I don’t know. And I don’t want to be a part of something that I don’t understand. I don’t want to be played with by someone who doesn’t really love me.” Valjean was crying. He walked away brusquely; apparently his stuff in the trunk was no longer of any importance.   
  
Javert sprung up as fast as he could, getting out of the car and rushing after Valjean. The man was already at the door to the studio. He was unlocking the door that Fantine had locked after they first left.   
  
“Jean! Please, let me talk to you!” Javert rushed after him. Valjean opened the door just wide enough for him to slip inside. Javert quickly forced his foot inside. 

“Hey! Please!”    
  
Valjean pushed Javert out of the way. Javert had forgotten Valjean was so strong. He went stumbling backwards and almost fell. By the time he regained his balance, Valjean was safely inside. Javert tried the doors. Locked, of course. Through the glass, Javert’s eyes met Valjean’s. The older man shook his head and turned away.    
  
“Jean…” He said this weakly. Valjean couldn’t hear him. Javert leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes. He had ruined everything, hadn’t he? Garreth, stupid Garreth…    
  
But it wasn’t Garreth who had gotten a chance with Valjean and wasted it. It wasn’t Garreth who had hurt Valjean so much.

It was Javert. Javert was the loser. 

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He checked it instinctively. Jean.

> Sorry for pushing you. I just need you to go. Drop my stuff either at my apartment or at the studio whenever you can. Thanks.

No emojis, no kisses. Nothing. Just nothing. Javert answered immediately, tears clouding his vision.

> Y wont u let me talk 2 u?

A moment.

> Because. I’m done.   
>    
>  We’re done. I’m sorry.   
>    
>  We just don’t want the same things. 

Done? No. No, no, no.

> Pls Jean… u said u loved me. How can u do this?
> 
>  
> 
> Because you don’t feel the same way. I told you.    
>    
>  I can’t talk to you anymore. This is hurting me too much. Please leave me alone, Javert.
> 
>  
> 
> I dont want 2!
> 
>  
> 
> Javert, I love you, and that’s WHY I need you to go. 

Javert clutched his phone in shaking hands. He needed to say something. He needed to do something. He couldn’t lose Valjean. 

> Pls listen 2 me. I need u. I dont want to b w/out u again. 
> 
> I always believed love was stupid. My mother fell in love w/my father and my father left her and her heart was broken and her life was ruined 4ever. When she had me she had nothing so she became a whore 2 try 2 feed me. Of course she didnt get 2 keep me. 
> 
> I didnt want 2 end up like my mother so i told myself i wouldnt fall in love. I have never loved anyone and have only wanted u sexually.
> 
> But uve changed me. 
> 
> I have never felt what i feel 4 u b4. 
> 
> U know how uptight and grumpy i used 2 b. I was so grumpy my doctor made me do yoga 2 help me w/my stress. U know i didnt want 2 do it and that i only came 2 investigate, but u made me kinda like it.
> 
> U make everything better. U make me smile even tho i never smile. When im around u, its like nothing else matters. Its like its only u and me in the world. I think ur really attractive, but also such a good person. A saint almost. Ur so perfect imo. Now that ive been able 2 hold u and kiss u, i cant bear the thought of losing u. Uve bcome 2 important 2 me.

Javert put his phone down a moment. Was it… Could it be? He stared at his phone screen.

> Idk… the more i think about it, maybe i do love u.

Javert’s heart was racing from the confession. It had to be… And the thought of being in love with Valjean wasn’t as repulsive to him as it used to be. In fact, he didn’t mind at all. His phone vibrated.

> Really? This is how you feel?
> 
>  
> 
> Yes! Im p sure im in love w/u.
> 
> We can have a sappy romantic relationship if u want

Javert saw movement in front of him. He looked up. Valjean was standing close to the glass doors, looking up at him from the other side with wide eyes that were shiny with tears. Javert smiled a little at Valjean, wiping away a single tear of his own. 

> There’s nothing I want more. <3 xx

Valjean was smiling, waiting for Javert to receive the text. When the inspector got it, he smiled a little as well.

> get out here and kiss me then

The older man opened the door and stepped out, flinging himself into Javert’s waiting arms, planting a sloppy kiss on his partner’s lips. 

When they finally broke away from each other, Valjean was crying.   
  
“What is it?” Javert asked.   
  
“I feel bad… I’m sorry for overreacting earlier.”   
  
“It’s alright. It gave me a chance to realize how I felt about you,” Javert told him.   
  
Valjean smiled. “Say it out loud.”   
  
“Say what?”   
  
“That you love me.”   
  
“I love you.”   
  
Valjean smiled so brightly that he outshone all of the streetlights. His eyes sparkled and then overflowed. He sobbed into Javert’s chest, and the taller man sighed.   
  
“Did I say it wrong?”   
  
Valjean laughed through his tears. “No. These are happy tears.”   
  
Javert was relieved. “Thank God. It’s hard to understand your emotions.” He hugged Valjean closer. He was solid muscle, that was obvious, even now that the man was weeping in his arms like a child. But he was oh so warm and Javert never wanted to let him go, never wanted to let go of the ray of sunshine he had caught against all odds in his bare hands.    
  
“You’ll get the hang of it eventually,” Valjean assured him.   
  
“Yeah,” Javert sighed, “Though emotions are… very slippery boys.”

  
When Javert next saw his doctor, she was surprised to learn that he had actually taken her suggestion of doing yoga.   
  
“Did you enjoy yoga?”   
  
Javert frowned. “Not really, no.”   
  
“Oh, that’s too bad. Did you find it helped with your stress?”   
  
“I don’t think so.”   
  
The doctor frowned. “That’s really unfortunate. Maybe Jean Madeleine just wasn’t the right teacher for you.”   
  
Javert smirked. “No, that’s not it. He’s the one, alright.”


End file.
